


Losing Control

by ravensfight



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, HP: EWE, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-17
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2018-04-09 20:07:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 52,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4362470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravensfight/pseuds/ravensfight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry has never been very good at keeping his life under control. And so, when in the aftermath of the war his magic starts going haywire, he does what any self-sacrificing person would do in the face of hurting their friends: he runs away. A year later, he gets a letter that prompts him from his self-imposed solitude. Underneath flowery words, it has one message: Draco Malfoy is dying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Unraveling

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! I'm brand new on this website, though I'm not completely new to writing fanfiction. Here is my first story on here and if you guys like it, I'll continue. I'm hoping to get a chapter out maybe every week (hopefully no longer than every other week though). Thanks and let me know what you think!
> 
> (This story will be completely told from Harry's POV, in 3rd person and will be sticking to canon except regarding the epilogue)

            Harry Potter lay flat on his back, the nails on his left hand were digging into the short, shag carpet beneath them while his right hand lay underneath his head to give him a semblance of being propped up. His legs were bent at the knees, his bare feet sinking into the carpet. In the background, a muggle newscaster was elaborating on the death of a beloved penguin named Ross, who had lived a surprisingly long life in captivity at the London Zoo. Harry felt his eyes glaze over as his ears tuned out the noise, staring at but not really seeing the ceiling fan as it spun in circles above his head.

            A door opened and closed but still the nineteen-year-old did not move. There was a shuffle in the entryway and the sound of a heavy briefcase being placed on the tiled floor there, and still Harry did not even reach for the wand that was on the floor several feet from him. It wasn’t until there was a huff and a deep, male voice said “Have you even moved since I left this morning?” that Harry lifted his head to glance uninterestedly at the large, blond man whose moustache was growing in rather nicely, or so he kept saying every time he caught himself in the mirror. There was a grunt and a creak of overused springs as the man sat down on the couch he had received from his mother as a moving-out gift along with several other unnecessary items like kitchen supplies even though the man had never had to cook in his life.

            Silence fell upon them almost immediately after that as the man picked up the remote and started to flip through the channels looking for something interesting. Harry let his head fall back onto his hand and resumed his contemplation of the ceiling fan, wondering vaguely if Mr. Weasley had yet to figure out how they worked. The teenager flinched and turned over onto his stomach to stare blankly at the hallway instead, arms propped up on elbows with palms holding his head up. He had almost drifted off like that when a loud sigh erupted from the couch and Harry turned over again to make eye contact with the other man. They looked at each other blankly for a few moments before Dudley said, “Harry, you can’t just keep doing this. You have to get a job or at least a social life. Go to the pub, have a few dates, be normal.”

            Harry frowned and let his head fall back to the floor, slightly perturbed but not enough to really fight back. There was nothing to fight for, anyway. They had this conversation every day for the past month, and still nothing had changed, not that Harry was keen on making that change himself. “What’s the point, Dudley? I have enough to help pay rent and I buy my own food; I even take showers. Why should I have to do more than that?” He said finally, his voice slightly strained from lack of use.

            “You need to get out of the apartment. You’ll drive yourself mad doing this. Plus, you’re ruining my carpet.” Dudley retorted, folding his arms over his large torso in a stance that oddly reminded him of his father, though he supposed the moustache helped that fantasy along.

            Harry groaned and lay his arms over his eyes so he didn’t have to look at his cousin and see how right he was, not that Harry would ever admit it out loud. “I do get out. I visit my godson every Sunday.” Harry pointed out, but even as the words came out, he knew they were weak. Every day had turned into every other day and then once a week, and now it was more like every other Sunday rather than every. Somewhere deep inside him, he felt guilty about that but it was getting so hard to even get up in the morning, much less go to Andromeda’s where she was constantly nagging him to do something with his life.

            Another sigh and Dudley stood back up, with difficulty. He flipped the telly off, which made Harry frown but as he hadn’t been really listening to it, he didn’t complain. Dudley was halfway to his bedroom before he abruptly turned around and said, “Look, I have no problem with you staying here, but you can’t keep running away forever Harry. Eventually life is going to catch up, and from my experience, usually with a boom. Just don’t destroy my apartment when it does, okay?” Harry smiled slightly, remembering a destroyed living room and three very upset Dursleys as several Weasleys had tumbled out of what had been their fireplace. That hurt. The smile dropped immediately and he went back to staring at the ceiling, his eyes looking everywhere but at the fan. The door to Dudley’s bedroom shut and Harry turned over onto his side, his eyes reading the familiar line on the back of his right hand without really thinking about what it meant.

            Closing his eyes, he was very nearly asleep when he heard a sharp tap on the window. Harry jumped up immediately and went for his back pocket before remembering that his wand was on the floor where he had tossed it this morning. He knelt down and picked it up before heading slowly towards the window. He drew back one corner of the curtain to peer outside and see a rather impressive eagle owl sitting on the ledge with a wax-sealed envelope attached to its leg. Generally, he sent away owls of all kinds, but something about this one spoke to him though he didn’t know if that was because its beak was raised in a dignified way or because the breed of the bird reminded him strongly of home for some unfathomable reason. In either case, he felt drawn enough to open the window and let the owl fly in, land on the side table and lift its leg up for Harry to untie the letter.

            Smiling for absolutely no reason at all that he could see, Harry obeyed the bird’s wishes and took the letter. He expected it to fly away then, but it didn’t move, just watched him with enormous golden eyes. Letting the smile drop, he unsealed the envelope and pulled out a short piece of parchment whose contents nearly made his heart stop.

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_I know we have never had the chance to have a formal meeting, but I would like you to know that I think highly of you, and not just because you killed the Dark Lord and saved my family from a worse fate when you could have just as easily sat by. You helped me have hope when there was none. You let me have the chance to find my son. But now, I am afraid that I have to ask for your assistance. You provided a light in the dark and I am forever grateful for that, but my son, I fear, was never able to find that light. He’s lost, Mr. Potter, in the darkness and only you can help. If you will concede to meet with me about this, please arrive at the Manor at your earliest convenience._

_Sincerely,_

_N. Malfoy_

            As soon as he had finished reading, the eagle owl hooted and spread its wings in a way that seemed to say it thought highly of itself before taking off through the window. He watched it go, his fist clutched around Mrs. Malfoy’s letter. Why would she think that he could help Malfoy? They had done nothing but hate each other for years. Why would he drop everything and run to help him now? A haunting voice in the back of his head that he hadn’t known was there laughed and taunted, _Drop what? Your education? Done. Your friends? Done. Your girlfriend? Done. What else is there? You don’t even have a job, Harry._

            Grimacing, He sat down on the couch and stared at the dark screen of the television. Something was wrong with Malfoy. Something so critical that his mother had to be cryptic in her own writing. Could he really go? Harry shook his head. He didn’t even understand why he was even considering this. When Hermione had still tried to get him to do something, he had turned her down and slammed the door in her face. The only one he would even slightly listen to was Andromeda, but that was just because she was taking care of the only thing Harry cared about anymore: his godson Teddy. Flinching at the thought of the toddler and how little he had seen him lately, Harry opened the letter and considered its contents again. Maybe just going to see what was wrong wouldn’t hurt too badly. He could always escape if the memories got too bad or something else went wrong.

            Resigning himself to actually doing this, Harry stood up and walked over to his own bedroom to find a coat and his only decent pair of trainers, which he slipped on over a mismatched pair of socks. He very nearly stuck his wand in his back pocket like he usually did when a scarred face came to mind and he stuck it in the coat pocket instead, not willing to dwell too long on that memory. “Dud, I’m going out. Be back soon, probably.” He called out as he knocked lightly on his cousin’s door.

            The door opened quicker than Harry expected and Dudley’s beady eyes met his with poorly concealed astonishment. “You’re doing what?”

            “Going out. I err got a letter. Something…something important, I suppose.” He tripped over his words, blushing faintly at the incredulous look Dudley was giving him.

            “Good, good. Don’t come back too soon, okay? Actually, it’d be great if you don’t come back until late tonight. I’d like to invite Amy over.” Dudley said and it was his turn to blush profusely.

            Harry grinned and winked before nodding his assent and leaving the apartment for the first time in what felt like days. The outside world wasn’t much cheerier than inside of the apartment, what with London’s eternal grey skies and chilly winds that more times than not carried rain along with them. What little sun could filter through the clouds was giving off an orange glow as it reached the horizon, signaling the near end of another useless day. Though maybe not quite completely hopeless, Harry thought as he walked down the steps and entered the alleyway where he envisioned the large white mansion in the forefront of his mind, turned on his heel, and disappeared with a _crack_.

            Malfoy Manor looked worse than Harry had ever seen it. Granted, the only other time he had he hadn’t had his glasses on his face and had been hit with a stinging hex, but still. Swallowing down the memories hard, he wondered if he would actually be able to survive in there for more than a few seconds without exploding from the overexposure to the painful past. He had to try though, he knew that. Otherwise, what was the point of getting up off the floor? Steeling any courage that he might still possess, he stepped towards the gate and was slightly surprised when it swung open immediately to admit him.

            Harry walked up the long path that he supposed had once been gorgeous but now was overgrown and scarred from the war, vines had even made their way up along the building and though he had seen that done as decoration on some places, this just gave the whole place a sense of abandonment despite the light coming from the open front door. Mrs. Malfoy stood there in silver robes, her blond hair pulled up into a loose bun and her eyes swollen as if she had been crying, but when she spoke there was no crack in her voice as she said, “Thank you so very much for coming, Mr. Potter. I know this must be hard for you, what with my son’s history with you and what happened here nearly two years ago.”

            He nodded and followed her into the house, not finding it easy to speak when he had not had any human interaction except for Dudley and the occasional pizza delivery person in quite a long time. She passed the drawing room without looking in, but Harry found himself stopping to stare at the closed door, remembering screams and pain and lies. Shivering, he tried to keep himself under control and turned to continue following Mrs. Malfoy. She went up the grand staircase and paused at the first ledge to address him, “If it is alright with you, I think it would be best if I show you what happened before I tell you, so you can get an idea of what exactly we are dealing with.” Harry nodded again and she continued her climb, Harry following more slowly as his eyes looked around at what probably used to be a grand place like in most muggle movies about rich people, but now resembled more of a graveyard. Portraits were empty, their frames scorched and their paintings graffitied. The walls which once must have been solid white were now stained yellow and in some places, black. Even the staircase in some places was starting to crumble and crack, so that Harry had to watch where he stepped.

            When they reached the second landing, Mrs. Malfoy turned left and continued down a long hallway with several sealed off rooms until she stopped at the only open doorway. She turned around then and saw him examining the walls and portraits as he walked. Her smile turned sad for a moment before she shook her head and said, “His rooms are here. Be careful not to trip.” She then entered and Harry followed, wondering what she could mean by that.

            She lit several candles in the room at once with her wand and Harry gasped, immediately understanding her words. Several of the vines he had seen outside had broken in through the large window and were weaving themselves along the floor and walls and around the bed where his once enemy lay sleeping, his left arm held out like an offering to the plant, whose thorns were jutting into the wood of the bedframe, leaving deep scratches. As he watched, more vines twisted their way into the room and circled along the walls and floor, gathering around Malfoy but never touching him. His pointed body looked thinner than Harry had ever seen him, but other than that and several types of wounds on his left arm, Malfoy looked perfectly fine, just sleeping.

            “Do you understand?” Mrs. Malfoy whispered and Harry broke his gaze on the blond to look at his mother. He shook his head slightly and she let out a small sigh before sitting down on a chair that had not yet been covered in vines. “I didn’t expect you to, really. My son is destroying himself and everything tied to him, Mr. Potter. When Lucius got sent to Azkaban, he lost his connection to the Manor. Draco became the new head of the family, and with it, control over Malfoy Manor. He had been doing fine. He had a tutor here, took his N.E.W.T.s and I thought he was going to be able to move on and find something for himself. I didn’t know how much pain he was in. It started with the Mark. He tried to remove it without my knowledge. He burned, cut, and cursed himself. He tried anything he could think of. The more he tried, the further he sank. I found him a week ago like this, sleeping. He won’t wake, and I’m afraid that he has drawn so much into himself that he won’t be able to emerge. The Manor is protecting him, using its magic to try and heal his, but it isn’t working. As you can see, the Manor is dying and my son still won’t wake.” She explained sadly, her eyes only for her sleeping son.

            Harry didn’t understand how she could tell him all of this and just completely trust him. He was a stranger, a stranger that she had once helped just for the sake of the man that now lay in a self-inflicted coma. Not even thinking about why he was doing it, Harry stepped towards the bed and watched interestedly as the vines moved backward to allow him access causing Mrs. Malfoy to gasp in surprise. He frowned and turned to her, waiting for her to explain her shock. “The vines protect him, Mr. Potter. They won’t even let me near him, but you…perhaps they think the same as me.” She said and Harry grimaced, rather doubting that vines could think and even if they could that they would put their trust in him when he had completely failed in everything else that involved Malfoy.

            Shrugging, he continued to move forward, the vines parting before him until he reached the bedside and looked down into the sleeping face of his former nemesis. To be honest, Malfoy looked dead. Thin, sunken, and barely even breathing, Harry rather doubted that there was much of the blond left in there. Even his hair had lost its natural shine and had grown far longer than Harry knew Malfoy liked it, or at least, how he had liked it in school. In any case, there were too many split ends for this to be Malfoy’s hair. Had all this just happened in a week or had he been deteriorating long before that? Before he really registered what he was doing, Harry reached out and touched Malfoy’s left forearm. He didn’t know what he expected: flinching, screaming, crying, maybe even out of control magic. None of that happened. His fingers were on the Mark and Malfoy didn’t even move.

            Harry’s fingers traced the raging skin around the horrible tattoo and felt distinctly sorry for the man that was in so much pain because the thing simply existed that he had decided hurting himself to try and get it off was the better option. And that was odd in itself, Harry realized with a start. He felt something. Sure, it was mostly sympathy and maybe a bit of pity, but it was something. Something other than the void he had forced upon himself in order to not think about all that had happened during the War. He backed away immediately as if the burn marks on Malfoy’s arm had scorched him. Perhaps sensing Harry’s panic, the vines sprung up and made a barrier between Harry and Malfoy, pushing Harry away and back to where Mrs. Malfoy was sitting.

            “Mr. Potter?” She asked worriedly as Harry collected himself.

            “Have you tried contacting St. Mungo’s about this, Mrs. Malfoy?” He asked, his tone neutral as he battled within himself to force away the emotions that had somehow escaped when he wasn’t paying attention.

            She shook her head and frowned, thinking very deeply about something that Harry could not even begin to comprehend. Finally, she said “I have tried, yes, but they will not see me or my son.”

            Attempting to squash the emotions inside him was distinctly getting harder with every word that she spoke. “Why not?” He asked through gritted teeth, though he had a horrible feeling that he knew exactly what her answer would be.

            “Because we lost the War, Mr. Potter. Can you really expect them to help us when we are the reason they had to bury their children?” She said it so simply, as if she were commenting on the weather and not about the hundreds of deaths that had occurred under Voldemort’s rule and the thick prejudice that had followed in the wake of the funerals and the subsequent Trials. Harry felt something inside him break at the same time that Malfoy’s bookshelf caught on fire.

            Mrs. Malfoy let out a shriek and immediately doused the flames with her wand, but the damage had been done. She stared at Harry and he wondered if it was the fear he had seen on so many other faces before he had run away, but no, she held only curiosity and fascination in those blue eyes. Before she could say anything, he was out of the room and rushing down the stairs, a crack on the wall following him all the way to the entrance hall. Before he could reach the door, Mrs. Malfoy called out from the top of the stairs, “Mr. Potter, will you help my son? Will you help my Draco?”

            He turned around and looked up at her, seeing how broken the once strong woman was. He saw Andromeda in his mind’s eye and how the severe woman he had met on his flight from Privet Drive had melted into a weeping puddle on the floor when she had heard the news about her Nymphadora so close after the death of her husband. Her sister was looking at him now, pleading with him without so many words for the only thing she had left to not be taken from her as well. Harry couldn’t take it. He nodded and left the Manor, the crack replaced by fire as he walked down the path to the gate. Once he passed through it, he doused the flames and stared at the Manor for a moment more before apparating away.


	2. Knowledge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Research has never been Harry's strongsuit and now that his magic is acting up and he has separated himself from research-wiz Hermione, it is near impossible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter 2! I'm trying to stay a chapter ahead and sadly, I wasn't able to get chapter 3 done before posting this, but I'm hoping to get it done today and start work on chapter 4. Thanks for all the kudos! Please let me know what you think!

            Pages rustled in agitation as Harry tossed another book to the side. It was getting harder and harder to concentrate when each book he looked at about mental magic was completely useless. There were books on doing nonverbal spells and occlumency and legilimency. There were books on old magic connecting houses to people and books about the possible sources of magic, but absolutely nothing useful, even the book that described the connection between Malfoy and Malfoy Manor didn’t go into detail about why it was trying so hard to protect him. The book was mostly about protecting the house itself and keeping the grounds and inside maintained and other garbage.

            He cursed under his breath at how little information there was here about magic depletion and comatose wizards. Surely there had to be something here that could help Malfoy get out of his self-inflicted trauma? After all, Hermione was always going on about how libraries could never fail her. Harry cut that thought off and shoved another useless book about various magical afflictions away from him. More pages rustled in the background, but he ignored them. There had to be something. He went through three more books, scanning for any information that might be relevant, but by the end of the third one, books had started to fall off of the shelf behind him. It wasn’t until he heard someone make an _oomph_ sound that he looked up to see the damage, and a moment later a witch appeared on his row, rubbing the back of her head.

            “Harry?” The witch asked and when she drew close enough to be under his candlelight, Harry stood up and immediately began backing away, wondering if he’d be able to bolt without ruining too much of the library. “Harry, wait. Please don’t run.” She pleaded softly, serving to make Harry just want to escape even more. He shook his head, taking several more steps backwards as the shelf next to him trembled. She glanced at the shelf and the corner of her mouth turned down in worry before her brown eyes caught his green ones. “Please, Harry. Don’t be scared.”

            Harry wanted to laugh. Scared? No. He was terrified. Another book flew off the shelf, nearly hitting the witch in the stomach. She let out a gasp and he turned, running. He had to get out of here. He couldn’t let her get hurt. Books flew off their shelves as he went but the librarian could fix that with magic, at least there was no fire this time. And just as he thought that, one of the tables caught and he could hear her shriek of “Aguamenti” behind him but did not stop. Out on the street, he stopped for just a moment to get his bearings, but that was enough for the witch to catch up. He twisted, but before he could fully disappear, she caught on and together they disappeared into the void of apparition.

            When they arrived in the alleyway next to Dudley’s apartment, Harry immediately regretted it. He had tried so hard to keep this place from her knowledge, even warding the place against her owls. Now she was here and Harry would never be able to escape again. As she straightened up, her eyes scanned the plain alleyway and he could see her calculating look, the one that meant she knew everything and what she didn’t, she would know in about two seconds. “Where are we?” She asked and Harry wanted to tell her to piss off.

            Instead, he said grumpily, “Go home, Hermione, while you still have all your limbs.”

            Hermione slapped him. He recoiled and pressed his hand to his stinging cheek, his eyes wide as he stared disbelievingly at the woman before him. However, before he could even open his mouth to say something in response, her fist connected with his stomach. He doubled over in pain and looked up at her, not understanding what was happening. “Harry James Potter, you are going to stay there and listen to me, and if you try to move, the next thing I hurt won’t be pretty.” She declared and Harry’s hands covered his crotch in fear that she would follow through with her words anyway.

            When she realized he wasn’t going anywhere, Hermione let out a breath of air and sank to the ground beside him. Hurt green eyes met tearful brown ones and suddenly her arms were around him and her whole body was shaking with emotion as she sobbed onto his shoulder. He held out for only a couple of awkward moments before he returned her embrace and together they sat while Hermione cried in the dirty muggle alleyway for several minutes. Once she was able to quiet down, the brunette pulled away and glared at Harry, making him feel the need to protect every body part she hadn’t already hurt.

            “Harry, how could you do that to us? Were you really that scared we’d pull away from you so you did it to us?” She asked and Harry shook his head, standing up. She made a move like she was going to do something more to him for moving until she saw that he had held out his hand to pull her up. She took it and stood as well. He did a quick scourgify on both of them before pulling her out of the alleyway and onto the street. As they walked, nothing moved and for that, Harry was grateful.

            “No, Hermione. I wasn’t scared you’d leave me, though I guess that might have popped up at one point. I was more frightened that I would hurt one of you. Everyone had already lost so much and with me being so unstable, I just thought it best that I get away. So I did.” He said, somehow finding it easy to tell her this now that he had something more pressing on his mind than what she thought. Not to mention, he still had no plans at all to return to the Weasleys even if Hermione had found his hiding place.

            “Oh, Harry. We could’ve figured it out together, worked something out. Did you learn nothing from our journey together? You can’t do everything alone.” She said and then looked at their surroundings in confusion. “Where are we going, by the way?”

            Harry frowned and stared at his shoes as he answered, “There’s a twenty-four hour diner up here that I sometimes like to go to. Thought we could talk there.”

            Hermione’s eyes widened in realization and she pushed Harry lightly, causing him to stumble a bit and for a trash can he hadn’t even touched to fall over. He raised his eyebrows at her and she blushed in the faint light of the street lamps. “Sorry. I mean, does that mean you live around here? In muggle London?” She asked and he nodded vaguely, not wanting to really reveal who exactly he lived with in case she got upset.

            When they reached the diner, he opened the door for her and she went ahead inside. He had the sudden thought to ditch her right then and go home, knowing that it was dark and she would likely not be able to find his apartment or for that matter, the alleyway they had apparated to. But then Hermione was looking at him with those big brown eyes and he relented, following her inside of the restaurant and letting the door close shut behind him. He asked for a corner booth for the two of them and followed the hostess to the table, where they both sat facing each other. He pretended to look at the menu for a bit just to avoid looking at the woman who had once been one of his best friends. When the waiter arrived, all he ended up ordering was a coffee and a biscuit whereas Hermione ordered a large orange juice and an omelet with a bowl of fruit. The waiter then took up their menus and let them be, leaving Harry to stare at Hermione and wonder what she would start with.

            “Ginny joined the Holyhead Harpies and Ron passed Auror training,” She commented and Harry grimaced, remembering the awful break up that had happened in the wake of Fred’s funeral because Ron had pushed too hard for Harry to make a decision either way. Ginny had been fine with it; she hadn’t even shed a tear, saying she knew it was coming all along, but Ron…Ron wouldn’t speak to him for a week. During which, Harry’s magic had started to go out of control. “Ron and I got engaged,” She said, flashing a ring at him.

            “Congrats,” He tried, not really feeling connected enough to give her a real smile. “What’s the date?”

            She frowned and shook her head, staring straight at him as she said, “We don’t have one yet since our best man has been missing for more than a year and the groom won’t even consider someone else.”

            Harry tried to feel guilty or sheepish or any of the emotions she probably expected of him, but he just shrugged and leaned against the wall. “Well, I hope he shows up soon. A year is a long time to be gone.” He said, closing his eyes so that he wouldn’t have to see her hurt expression.

            “I hope so too,” She said quietly and Harry did feel a pang in his chest at that, but not one that hurt enough for him to actually abandon his current lifestyle for. After several moments of silence passed between them, the waiter came back with their drinks and promptly disappeared again. There was quiet for only a few moments more before she asked, “What were you looking for in the library?”

            He frowned and opened his eyes to contemplate her expression. He could only see pure curiosity there, but he knew her, even if he had been gone for a year. Put Hermione Granger on a mission that involves books and she wasn’t likely to stop until she had an answer. He was sorely tempted to ask for her help with the Malfoy problem, but he was worried about getting her too involved. The more he saw her, the more likely it was that he would have to come into contact with Ron and the rest of them, and he had left for a reason after all. Not to mention, his mind was already coming unraveled despite his year of forcing down his emotions and memories, and he didn’t want her anywhere near that.

            But if he thought about it, asking her a few innocent questions here might be fine. He didn’t have to mention Malfoy or the exact problem, per se. Knowing that he would probably regret this, he opened his mouth and asked, “What do you know about mind healing?”

            “Harry, if this is about your magic issues, I don’t think it has anything to do with your mind. It is your magic itself that is going haywire.” She said, frowning.

            Harry shook his head, “This isn’t about that. It’s something else.”

            “Hm. Well, I know quite a lot actually. I actually became a mind healer after you left since after the War, there has been a much larger demand for them than ever before, which is good because the subject is relatively new. Wizards are slightly lacking in the mind department, since they typically just think anyone with a problem needs to either suck it up or be sent far away.” She said and Harry suddenly felt like kissing her, though the feeling was short lived because she was like his sister and he still was reluctant to really get her involved.

            Still, “Do you know what might cause someone’s magic to deplete so much that he or she would fall into a coma?” He asked.

            She frowned for a long time as she thought, sipping at her orange juice. Finally, she said, “I guess it would depend on the individual situation, but I’ve never heard of someone’s magic depleting except in the most extreme cases of depression. How long has the person been comatose?” Harry smiled at her words and relaxed his tense stance. That was something he had forgotten he loved about her: she never pried unless absolutely necessary.

            “A week,” He said easily as he stirred cream into his coffee.

            “Hm. That might not be good. Whoever this is won’t be able to last much longer in that state. You said their magic was depleted and they were comatose?” She said as her omelet and his biscuit arrived along with refills for their drinks, their waiter giving her an odd look before disappearing again.

            Harry nodded as he bit into his biscuit, savoring the taste of chocolate as it melted in his mouth. Then the words hit him and he sat back as the spoon lying next to his coffee bent in half. As he tried hard to think about nothing more menacing than Ross the penguin in order to calm himself, Hermione mouthed an incantation as her wand moved under the table so that the spoon would right itself before anyone noticed. “What if something was trying to help with the magic depletion? Like a house giving its power to the person? Would that help at all?” He asked or pleaded more like, his emotions flying wildly as his magic cracked in the air around him. Malfoy couldn’t die, not when he had promised his mother, not when he hadn’t even tried yet.

            Hermione frowned for a moment, but then said, “I haven’t heard of something like that happening either, but in that case, the person may last a bit longer, though even something as magical as a building doesn’t have an infinite store of magic. I would think that the only way to save them would be to wake them up somehow so that they can save themselves. Though that would take an awful lot of magic to accomplish.”

            Harry’s magic cracked again, but this time with hope. A lot of magic was what he currently specialized in, not that he had found much use for it before. He dipped his biscuit in his coffee and took a bite, now grateful Hermione had chased him down. She had more knowledge than the whole library combined, and still she read more books. “So what if say someone was able to get that much magic, what would they need to do in order to wake up the person?” He asked, feeling like he wasn’t doing so well hiding his thoughts in front of her with this particular conversation.

            She shrugged and finished off her omelet before answering, “I don’t know, Harry. I would need to do some research on similar cases, though I’m afraid there are probably not a lot of them, or at least not a lot documented. I don’t know the real specifics, so I can’t rightfully say what is needed here, and I would rather not lead you astray with theories.”

            Harry felt his heart sink as Hermione’s knife cut her plate in half. Without saying anything, she repaired the damage and looked at him with a sad expression. “You’re not going to come back with me, are you?”

            He shook his head without looking up and said, “I can’t. Someone will say something that will upset me and someone will end up hurt. I can’t have that happen.”

            She nodded and stood to leave, placing enough muggle money on the table to pay for their meal plus some. Visibly swallowing, Hermione looked sadly at Harry and said, “It was really good to see you, Harry. I-I’ll owl you if I find out anything about your case.”

            Harry tilted his head in reply, not wishing to say how he felt either way for fear that she might conjure up hope where there was none. Her mouth tightened for a moment before she nodded her farewell and left the restaurant, glancing back at him once more before disappearing into the night. Somewhere deep within him, he felt guilt for letting this happen, but they were all safer this way. The florescent lightbulb above his head blinked its agreement and putting on a false neutral look, he followed her out into the darkness.

            A block away from the diner, Harry abruptly stopped moving. His eyes roamed over the few passersby close to him and across the street, focusing on each in turn. Most of them were outlined in darkness: muggles having an evening stroll. Across the street, a pink outline drew his eye but his tense shoulders loosened slightly when he saw that it was just a child, a muggleborn not yet aware of her powers. It was not her scent, however, that caused him to heighten his senses. He turned around to catch a turquoise outline, shining in the darkness. A curse reached his ears and the outline warped before disappearing completely. Hermione had finally apparated away.

            Satisfied that he was no longer being followed, Harry shoved his hands into his coat pockets to keep one hand on his wand and continued towards home. When he got there, he checked the battered watch that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had given him two years ago and decided that it was late enough that either Amy should have either left by now or fallen asleep with Dudley, a thought Harry was not altogether eager to envision. After flicking his wand within his pocket without really thinking about the spell, he heard the lock on the door click and he entered the apartment as quiet as he possibly could, locking the door behind him.

            As he passed through the hallway, he was surprised to find a light coming from the living room. He stopped just short of where the wall opened up into the room and peeked around the edge to see a girl who must be Amy but looked an awful like Aunt Petunia in stature curled up on top of his large cousin on the couch, both sound asleep with the main menu screen to _The Wizard of Oz_ flashing in the background. Grinning slightly, Harry reached out with his hand and concentrated on the screen. His could feel his magic forming through his arm and out through the tips of his fingers, causing the image on the screen to crack in response to the unknown interference until it ultimately shut off. Dudley stirred at the change in light and his sleepy eyes met Harry’s smiling ones. Dudley raised an eyebrow in confusion, but Harry just shook his head and saluted him before heading off to his own room for the night.

            As he lay in bed, staring up at the creaky ceiling fan as it rotated above him, his mind wandered towards Malfoy and how this could have happened. Mrs. Malfoy said that he had seemed strong and that he must have just kept it to himself for the longest time, but Harry couldn’t help but wonder how nobody had noticed in all this time, especially his own mother. Surely there had been signs, right? Magic can’t just disappear overnight. He must have been weakening for a very long time before the coma. If only there was a way to see what he had been like then, maybe then he could figure out what to do to help. But as of now, he had no ideas besides the vague notion that he needed to use his own magic, not that he knew how to do that. Tricks with the television and seeing auras were easy. Making it not go out of control when he was under emotional duress was an entirely different thing.

            Harry ran his fingers through the back of his hair as he sat up in bed, wondering how on earth he had gotten himself into this mess. He shouldn’t have made that promise. How could he possibly help Malfoy would he couldn’t even control himself? Letting out a groan that shook the lamp on his bedside table, he reached into the moleskin pouch that he still wears around his neck, more out of habit than anything else. He felt around and found paper and a sharp edge that belonged to a mirror before he finally found what he was looking for. He lifted up his chin so as not to poke himself as he pulled out nearly a foot of hawthorn wood. The wand looked exactly the same as it had the last time he had used it, the day Tom Riddle died. Whenever he remembered it existed, he used to think about returning it but had never come up with the courage to face his once-upon-a-time rival. Now, however, it seemed he had lost that chance. Sighing quietly to himself, he placed the wand on his nightstand next to his own and rolled over to go to sleep.


	3. Strained

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Racing to try and help Malfoy using Hermione's advice, Harry suddenly finds himself being pulled in several different directions.

             When he next opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was a bristling mustache over a deep frown hovering over him. Letting out a yawn, Harry struggled for a moment with his sheets that had somehow become entangled with him during the night. Once he was mostly free of them, he sat up and then, catching sight of the timid being behind the upset moustache, immediately pulled his sheets back over his bare chest. “Err…morning?” He questioned uneasily to his borderline enraged cousin and his scared-looking girlfriend.

            After shoving his glasses onto his nose in order to actually be able to see the two people clearly, he watched as Dudley’s beady eyes glanced worriedly at Amy, who even in the light of day looked strikingly like Aunt Petunia what with her long neck and thin physique. Now that he could see properly, he noticed that her eyes looked glassy as if she were holding back tears. Dudley seemed to see this too for instead of yelling at Harry like he would usually do when he was this upset, he took in a deep breath to calm himself first before speaking at a reasonable volume. “You were having nightmares again.” He stated rather pointedly.

            Swallowing hard, Harry immediately drew back into himself. Fire. And screams. That’s all he remembered from his dreams. But he knew what they were about, what they always were about. He glanced at the open door and realized that he must have been so caught up with everything involving Malfoy and even Hermione that he forgot to cast his usual silencing charm on it. “Oh,” was all he could think to say in response as his eyes traveled back to his cousin.

            “Are-are you okay?” A small voice asked from behind Dudley’s massive form and Harry immediately felt guilty at hearing how scared she was. This was not exactly how he wanted to have her first impression be of him, since it would only look bad on Dudley’s part that his cousin was so messed up.

            He sat up properly, keeping the sheets around him, and put on his best sympathy face as he turned his head to face Amy, whose bone structure – despite the neck – was not at all like Aunt Petunia’s. It was much softer, kinder. “I’m fine, Amy. Sorry about this. I…err, I went through some rough patches a while back and I guess I’m still just trying to get over it. It’s nothing to concern yourself with though. Sorry about meeting you this way.” He tried to comfort her with his limited consoling abilities. They seemed to be enough, though, because Dudley’s expression softened into one of gratitude.

            Nodding, Amy seemed to accept that. However, afterwards, her eyes began to wander around his room, most notably at the two wands sitting on his nightstand. Eyes widening, Harry shot a sharp look in Dudley’s direction and with the understanding that they had been able to foster over the last year and a half, Dudley immediately understood his meaning and began to gently pull Amy away from Harry and all his magic possessions, saying that they needed to give him some space to get up and other nonsense that Amy seemed to only halfheartedly agree with. In any case, she consented to follow Dudley out of the room and leave Harry alone in peace.

            Harry glanced at the hawthorn wand sitting next to his and a terrified face from his dream last night came to the forefront of his mind. Malfoy surrounded by fire, screaming for help. Narcissa Malfoy was waiting for him to heal her son. Sure, he had yet to find a solid idea that could actually work, but he had to try something. He was running out of time. With that thought in mind, Harry pulled on something at least half way decent, grabbed both wands, and left the apartment, only pausing long enough to wave goodbye to Dudley and Amy.

            When he appeared at the entrance of Malfoy Manor, his eyes were immediately drawn to the vines wrapped around the side of the house. They were beginning to brown and wither away which, given that they were Malfoy’s only protection, couldn't be a good thing. The once grand but now rusting gate swung open to admit him and he began the long trek towards the front door, his eyes barely ever leaving the broken window through which the decaying vines worked their way into the house.

            Upon reaching the building, he wrapped his knuckles on the door and waited. After several minutes of silence, the door finally opened to reveal an exhausted house-elf, whose timid smile barely reached her face before dropping again to admit him, saying that her mistress was away at the moment but that he could make himself at home. He thanked her for letting him know and her tired eyes widened slightly at his kindness before bowing and disappearing with a crack.

            Alone inside the manor, Harry began to regret showing up unannounced. Without Mrs. Malfoy’s reassuring presence, the ever pressing darkness and stench of death enveloped him, suffocated him. His magic stirred within him at his heightening panic and he had to close his eyes and breathe deeply in order to calm down. It was just a building, after all. It was two years ago. The blood was gone. Washed away like…Hermione. Screaming. Torturing. Blood. Blood everywhere. So much death. And a laugh. A high-pitched, awful laugh, cackling up from his own lungs at the massacre. It was perfect. Hilarious. What did a few lives matter when everything was going to be his? His life. Forever.

            “NO!” Harry cried out, his knees slamming into the marble floor as he forced his eyes open, forced his mind free of what used to be. He was no longer him. He was Harry. Just…Harry. He was dead. Cremated. Gone forever. He was Harry. Harry. Only Harry. And somehow, that wasn’t enough.

            “No. I’m not him. Just me. Just…me. Not my fault.” He said aloud to the empty foyer, his eyes on the ground where his hands were balled into fists, his fingernails digging into his palms. His magic surged around him at his doubt, his loathing and he tried to stop it, tried to rein it in, but when he looked up, all he saw were the bodies of the unknown dead, blank eyes staring up at him and he let go.

            Immediately, something began tugging on him, ripping at his core. All he could see was the blood of the fallen, red and taunting and somehow green. Pulling. Ripping. Tugging. Pain. Every pore, every molecule was being dragged out of him and he could do nothing to stop it. He to some extent tried to fight back, tried to pull himself back together, but every time he got close, blood swarmed his vision with the laugh from his nightmares and he let go again. This was his punishment. Guilty. His fault. Torn to pieces. Rip. Pull. Tug. Dying. Screaming. Pulling. Slicing. Silence. Crying. Blackness.

 

            When he next opened his eyes, he was no longer on the floor of the Manor’s entrance hall. He was lying in a large bed wearing silk pajamas that were a few inches too long for him and frankly, a bit tight around the shoulders. Blinking the sleep away from his eyes, he felt around for his glasses, noticing at he did so how dark it was in the room. After finding his glasses on the night stand, he placed them on his nose and looked around the room he had found himself in. It was large, larger than any bedroom he had ever been in other than Malfoy’s room but only sparsely decorated and very much not personalized in any way. Guest bedroom, then, he supposed.

            His eyes roamed over to the open window and was surprised to find that the moon was out and a blanket of stars surrounded it. Had he slept all day? He swung out his hand and tried to cast a _tempus_ , but to no avail. Frowning, he tried again, focusing inward. Nothing. Finally, he grabbed his wand from the bedside table and tried a third time, this time producing the time, which was nearing 8 pm.

            He climbed out from underneath the baby blue silk sheets and got out of the bed. However, as soon as his feet took all of his weight, he stumbled over to the wall in order to not fall down. His entire body was shaking just from the effort of standing. Heart beat rising, he tried to walk, slowly with one step at a time, towards the dresser where he could see that his clothes were folded on top of the white wood.

            Every step was a nightmare. His legs ached from the exertion and even his arms were having difficulty keeping purchase on the wall. When he was eventually able to reach the dresser, he stared at the neatly folded bundle and his arms shook as he held onto the dresser in order to keep himself upright. Now that he was over here, he was beginning to see that his effort was for naught because if he couldn’t even stand on his own, how in Merlin’s name was he supposed to get dressed?

            A knock sounded on the door and he called out for the person to come in, shocked when his voice came out as little more than a croak. The door opened and Mrs. Malfoy entered, her long hair flowing freely along her back in a way that made her seem a lot younger than she usually did. He watched  as she first looked towards the empty bed, frowned, and then scanned the room until she found him standing near – or leaning against as it were – the dresser. She immediately went towards him and offered him her arm. He appreciatively took it and allowed her to lead him back towards the bed, where he collapsed onto the sheets, limbs grateful that he was no longer putting any strain on them.

            “Mr. Potter, I am very thankful that you are alright enough to walk, but I must insist that you allow yourself to recuperate after what happened this morning.” She stated fiercely as she drew up a chair with her wand, sounding scarily like Professor McGonagall.

            “What happened to me?” He asked, trying very hard for his voice to lose the croaking and sound normal.

            Mrs. Malfoy let out a sigh and shook her head as she sat down in the chair she just conjured. “Well, I am not sure what caused it since I arrived after it started, but from what I could tell, the Manor was trying to drain you of your magic in order to heal itself and therefore heal Draco.” She explained in a softer tone, as though she were worried what she was saying may hurt him in some way.

            “A house can do that?” He asked incredulously.

            Mrs. Malfoy bowed her head. “Not normally, no. However, the Manor is, as I stated before, dying and as such, it has begun to panic. Even so, the only reason it could have seen you as a potential source for strength is if you were somehow producing as much magic as a building typically holds, which, if what I saw yesterday is any guess, you may have been.” She said, her blue eyes lifting up and fixating on him as if he were a particularly interesting puzzle that she wished to solve.

            Swallowing hard, Harry tried to feel the magic he had pushed down for so long. However, though it had always been right below the surface, now he couldn’t find it at all. It was as if the house had sucked him dry. “Is it permanent?” He asked quietly, not quite sure how he felt about either answer to his question. On one hand, he would be free to go back to the Weasley’s without fear of hurting them, but on the other, that was his magic. Sure, he was terrified of himself most of the time, but it was still a part of him. It proved that he was a wizard, that he was Harry. Not to mention, he wouldn’t be able to fulfill his promise to Mrs. Malfoy if he was down to the bare minimum.

            “No, it is not.” She reassured him. “I have been checking your magic levels every hour since you passed out. It’s been astounding really to see how your body has recovered so fast. A normal person would have died from that amount of stress, but within hours, your magic was nearing normal levels. If you wish, I can check it again to see what your status is now.”

            He nodded in response, his heart sinking in his chest. The Weasley’s would just have to continue to wait then. He would not put them in danger if his magic were to return to the level it had been at since the War. Mrs. Malfoy raised her wand and performed a spell he had never heard of before on him. A blue light engulfed him and he looked down at it curiously but could not tell what the light meant other than that it was glowing a bright turquoise. The Malfoy matriarch released the spell after only a few moments of deliberation and then smiled gently at him. “Yes, I suppose that would make sense.” She said and Harry raised an eyebrow in question. “Your magic has made an incredible recovery, Mr. Potter. It was very nearly gone this morning and now it is over the normal amount for most wizards, and I believe it is still not done restoring itself. You have quite the amount of power within you.” She explained herself to him, a light of hope shining in her blue eyes. “I was right; you have enough power to save my son and then some.”

            At the mention of Malfoy, Harry suddenly remembered why he had wanted to come to Malfoy Manor in the first place. “Can I see him?” He asked and when she seemed to hesitate, he continued, “I had an idea, or at least part of one, that might help.” Her silence was still stony and he began to get concerned by her lack of an answer. “Is there something wrong? Is Mal-is he okay?”

            Mrs. Malfoy finally shook her head and made to stand, her eyes not meeting his as she spoke. “He is as well as can be expected under the circumstances, Mr. Potter. However, given what happened yesterday morning and that I now know to what extent your power goes, I cannot in good conscience allow you to see him unless you are completely in control of yourself.” Her eyes then lifted to meet his, a blue ice piercing into him. “As I hope you understand, he is under enough pain as it is. I will not allow you and your magic to strike him, even if it is not your intention to do so.”

            Harry swallowed hard and nodded quickly to show he understood what she was saying. Although that wasn’t nearly enough, he knew when he saw her eyes narrow dangerously. Taking in a deep breath, he sat straight and countered her gaze with one full of sincerity. Then, thinking over his words before he said them, he tried to assure her as best as he could. “Mrs. Malfoy, I will not pretend that I am fully in control of my magic. In fact, that is why you probably haven’t seen my face in the _Prophet_ lately, because I left the Wizarding World behind when I felt that I would harm someone because of it. Though right now, I actually feel like I might have a chance to do some good with it and I would very much like the chance to try. I want to help him. I don’t know why really, seeing as all I’ve done is hate him all of my life, but I want to. Please let me try.”

            She stared directly into his eyes as he spoke and when he was finished, she continued to match his gaze for a few more intense moments before she broke away and turned towards the door. “Well then, Mr. Potter. You may see him. Though, not tonight. You still need to rest some more and although I believe you are being sincere, you must prove it to me by spending this evening in my company and if anything moves that is not supposed to while we are conversing, I will be sending you away without seeing my son.” She had reached the doorway while she was talking and now, standing halfway in the bedroom and halfway in the hall, she turned to face him again as she asked, “I trust that is agreeable?”

            Harry nodded. “It is, Mrs. Malfoy.”

            Mrs. Malfoy smiled. “Excellent. Then please call me Narcissa, Mr. Potter, for I will not be able to get through this evening if you are constantly reminding me of how old I am by using that honorific.”

            Surprised by her forwardness, Harry blinked for a few moments before returning the smile and saying, “In that case, it’s Harry, Mis-Narcissa.”

            She bowed her head at that and took another step out of the bedroom. “Good. I shall return momentarily, then. I must check on Draco and tell Mipsy that dinner is to be served here, since you are most likely still not strong enough to make it down to the dining room.” With that, she disappeared around the corner, closing the door behind her.

            After waiting a bit to see if she would come back, Harry tentatively reached his toes out to the carpeted floor and tried to stand again. Feeling stronger than last time, he took a couple of steps on his own. Grinning now at his body’s resilience, he walked more assuredly towards the door through which Narcissa had just disappeared. However, just before he reached the door, he stumbled and banged his shoulder against the wall, sliding down to the floor. Cringing from the pain, he looked down at his legs, feeling betrayed by their ineptitude at doing the only job they had.

            Resigning himself to having to actually follow through with his agreement with Narcissa about waiting to see Malfoy, he crawled back over to the bed and pulled himself back onto it using his knees, elbows and a little bit of his teeth. When he was finally able to settle himself back on top of the covers, the door reopened to admit Narcissa, followed by the house-elf he saw earlier. The house-elf, Mipsy he presumed, was laden with a tray of roast beef sandwiches and two bowls of French onion soup, for which he was very grateful as he did not think his stomach could handle much more than that at the moment. 

            Narcissa conjured a small stand on which Mipsy placed the tray. The Malfoy Matriach then took the stand and placed it in between the bed and the chair she had been sitting in earlier. The house-elf then bowed low, asked Narcissa if there would be anything else and upon receiving an answer in the negative, disapparated. When they were both situated to where they could reach the food, a silence fell upon them and Harry began to dread agreeing to talk with her when he knew next to nothing about her. Merlin, he knew more about her husband and definitely more about her son than about her.

            Thankfully, after only about a minute of awkward silence while they began to eat their food, Narcissa began speaking. She talked about her husband and how she visited him every week to make sure he was doing well despite the circumstances. She spoke about how he had made friends with some of the guards and that they were hoping for an appeal in the coming months for a shorter sentence due to his good behavior and her recent work with charity. While she was speaking, she did not once mention the reason why Lucius was in Azkaban, nor did she seem to blame him for not speaking on his behalf. She did, however, take a brief moment while she was talking to thank him for speaking up for her and her son. She did not linger on that topic though, instead moving on to lighter ones such as the various charities she had been helping with, both in person and with donations.

            After a while of hearing her speak, Harry began to realize that, despite her volunteer work, Narcissa had been alone for a very long time and unlike him, she obviously did not wish to be that way. She was a social being, used to being in the spotlight at gatherings and talking with people that loved to gossip about miniscule things. He had known she was posh from the first time he had seen her all those years ago at the Quidditch World Cup, but he had never known how much she seemed to rely on that. However, with the Malfoy reputation in shambles, she was lost with no one to talk to. He supposed with Malfoy around at the very least, she might have been coping, but now that he was silent, she needed someone to talk to, someone that would treat her like a person and not a Death Eater’s wife. She needed family.

            “Mis-Narcissa, have you tried contacting your sister?” He said brazenly the next time she paused to take a spoonful of soup.

            He knew immediately it had been the wrong thing to ask. Her face went noticeably pale and the spoon she was holding dropped into the soup bowl, spilling soup onto the tray below it. “M-my sister is dead.” She stammered out, her face losing all color.

            Harry frowned for a moment before he remembered: Narcissa thought he meant Bellatrix. “No, I mean Andromeda, your other sister. She’s my godson’s grandmother, and…” He trailed off as her face, if it were even possible, grew even paler at that name.

            She immediately got to her feet and took a few noticeable steps backwards. Feeling intensely guilty, Harry tried to stop her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up a sore subject. I just thought –”

            “You thought wrong, Mr. Potter.” She said, her voice small but tight with strain. Harry flinched back and his nearly empty soup bowl broke in two. Her eyes jumped to the broken porcelain and then back to Harry, hurt and anger and a bit of sorrow shining within the bright blue pupils. “I apologize for taking up your time. You may stay here tonight in order for your strength to be restored, but I expect you to leave the premises in the morning. You will not be seeing my son. Good night, Mr. Potter.” And with that, she vanished the dinner tray, turned around and left the room, closing the door behind her.

 _Well, damn._ Harry thought to the now empty room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a little bit of everything and I wasn't exactly sure of it, but let me know what you guys think! I love to hear feedback so I know what I'm doing right and what I should improve on. Thanks for reading!


	4. Linked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's never been the most careful person in the world. In fact, most people would say he's downright reckless. So when left alone in Malfoy Manor with Draco Malfoy sleeping down the hall, what did you think he was going to do, really?

            When he next woke, it was three in the morning according to his _tempus_ , which he was happy to note gave him absolutely zero trouble when he cast it. Faced with a full bladder, Harry got out of bed and was immensely pleased to find that his legs were fully functioning again. Completely magically and physically stable once more (or as close to stable as he ever was in regards to his magic), Harry wasted no time in using a modified _Point Me_ spell to locate the bathroom, which turned out to be only the next door over in the corridor he found himself in. After relieving himself, he stared at his face in the mirror and went over the three choices he had at the moment in his head.

            The first choice was that he go back to the guest bedroom and attempt to fall back asleep even though he had had quite enough of sleep for a while, having slept most of the prior day and then again since Narcissa left him. Therefore, the idea of sitting in bed for several more hours was not something that sounded enjoyable. The second was that he could get dressed and leave the Manor now since he obviously was no longer welcome within its walls. However, he felt it would be rude to leave without saying goodbye to Narcissa and he didn’t want to scare Dudley and possibly Amy if she was still there by coming home in the middle of the night. The third, though, was probably the worst idea of the lot of them: go see Draco Malfoy.

            His first thought in regards to that was that Narcissa would be pissed. With good reason, he had to admit. After all, with his magic fully back, he was not exactly the most stable person to be around. If he let his thoughts get out of hand when looking upon his former rival, he could end up hurting him. However, if Hermione was right and Hermione was usually right, then if he could figure out how to use the magic within him, he could possibly actually help Malfoy. Not to mention, he had promised Narcissa that he would try and he couldn’t very well do that without actually being in the same room as the blond. He really couldn’t convince himself not to see him. After all, he had never been able to resist Draco Malfoy.

            With that thought in mind, he left the bathroom and used his _Point Me_ spell again, this time in reference to Malfoy’s location. He followed it through a couple of corridors and up a flight of stairs before he found the door he was looking for. Then, careful to not make much noise in case Narcissa was for some reason doing a late night check-up on Malfoy, he edged his way into the room. Upon seeing that it was empty save the comatose occupant of the bed and the decaying vines, he let his guard drop and walked towards the bedside, the vines parting before him as they had done before.

            Despite the continually decaying state of the house, Malfoy looked exactly the same as he had been the last time he had seen him. In fact, his skin was so white and waxy that he appeared to the unaware to be nothing more than a porcelain statue that occasionally breathed shallow breaths. Harry moved forward, drawn by the blank openness that was Malfoy’s sleeping face. Regardless of how thin and unhealthy the blond looked, without that trademark sneer and a snide remark, he seemed to Harry as nothing more than a child; a fragile, sick child that needed to be protected from the horrors of the outside world.

            Yet, those horrors were what made him this way in the first place. The Malfoy he had known in school had been sheltered, raised like he was the only thing that mattered and when he found out that he wasn’t, he became fiercely jealous. He had been a child, a child that had his whole world ripped from him in the expanse of a blink. Hermione once said that they were the same, two sides of the same coin, but staring down at him now, Harry knew that wasn’t true. Harry had known what was coming, known it in the back of his mind like an itch he couldn’t scratch until Dumbledore laid it out on a silver platter for him at the end of his fifth year. Sure, he had been shocked by the reality of the prophecy, but he had known it was coming, really.

            Malfoy hadn’t known. Malfoy hadn’t had the slightest clue that Voldemort was going to destroy his entire life. To him, as far as Harry knew, Voldemort had been some sort of game that he used to taunt Harry. Despite his father’s wishes for the Dark Lord to return, Malfoy had never been aware what that might mean for him and his family until it was too late and he was practically in tears as he faced Dumbledore’s calm face on the Astronomy Tower. His entire life had been flipped upside-down and instead of being treated like a prince, he was less than a fly in Voldemort’s eyes after the fall of his father in the Department of Mysteries.

            Harry didn’t know what possessed him to do it, but thinking about his once-upon-a-time arch-rival in this way made him open himself up to sympathy for the young man and he sat down on the bed beside his sleep form. Slowly, without really thinking about it, his fingers wove their way through the blond’s unwashed hair. Then, after peeling his fingers out of the tangles, he placed a hand on either side of Malfoy’s face and leaned forward so that their foreheads touched. He then tried to concentrate in the way he would when he was searching for auras or messing with muggle technology, but also in a way that was completely new.

            He focused on the boy whom could only confide in a ghost, the boy that cried in the bathroom but still had enough fight in him to duel for his dignity against his enemy, the boy that couldn’t kill even when it was his only chance at redemption in his master’s eyes, the man that refused to say whether or not it was his master’s enemy that lay on the floor with a stinging hex on his face, the man that he had seen hope in enough to save from the gulfs of fire. Harry saw Malfoy for who he was without the bias he had held for so long against him. He saw him, saw Draco, and dove.

            When he surfaced, he was no longer in Malfoy’s bedroom. He tried to walk forward, but something was holding him in position in the darkness that he couldn’t see. Around him, he could hear hundreds of screams, most of which he recognized as belonging to the blond he could no longer see. “Malfoy?” He called out to the eternal darkness and received only more screaming and horrifyingly, an eerily familiar laugh echoing through the black space around him. Shivering, he turned around and attempted to move again. This time whatever had been holding him in place let him go and he walked forward, surrounded on all sides by screaming, sobbing, and pleading and every once and a while, that awful, cold laugh that sent chills up Harry’s spine.

            He didn’t know how long he walked but he felt no exhaustion no matter how far he went, and so he kept going in the same direction, continually attempting to peer into the blackness and trying to at least see where the sounds were originating from. He was just about to give up hope of ever finding something this way and turn back when he was suddenly hit with a small but bright white light. He blinked against it several times before seeing that the light was emanating from a tree. Curious, he moved forward and as he did so, he began to see that the light was only coming from the very base of it and that the tree extended up and out for a very long time, but mostly in shadow.

            “Who are you?” A small voice sounded and Harry stopped in his tracks and focused on the sound, locating its origin at the very base of the tree where the light was. There he saw a small child with terrified grey eyes and a round face curled up against the tree as if it were his only protection against the oppressing darkness surrounding them.

            Not wanting to startle the child any more than he already was, Harry took a careful step forward and bent his knees so that he was squatting beside him. “I’m Harry. Who are you?” He asked as gently as he could.

            The child watched him for a long time as if contemplating his existence before pulling his knees closer to his small chest and mumbling something Harry didn’t quite catch and said as much a moment later. “’m Draco.” The little boy finally said loud enough for him to hear and Harry tried very hard to not show how startled he was by this information in case it made the boy draw even further away from him and into himself.

            “Can I sit with you, Draco?” He asked instead and did so when the boy gave an unsure nod of the head. “How’d you get here?” Harry asked after several moments of silence as he looked up at the tree and wondered how far its branches spread from this one spot.

            The young child called Draco looked up at him and gave a frown so deep and so at odds with the rest of his features that Harry had the sudden urge to chuckle but held it down because with the way the child was still shaking and how the darkness was so close to their small light, Harry had the distinct feeling that laughing was not something that was done here in this place where fear was becoming increasingly overwhelming.

            “I’ve always been here. You’re the one that’s new.” Draco said accusingly, small grey eyes above too-chubby cheeks narrowed in an untrusting manner.

            Harry couldn’t help the nervous smile that graced his features at that and Draco’s eyes immediately widened in panic at the sight of it. Hurrying to fix his mistake, he decided to chance the subject. “What is this tree doing here?” He asked, careful to keep his voice one of pure curiosity.

            Draco looked up at the tree’s dark overhanging branches and flinched back into the trunk where the light was just barely gleaming. Harry moved forward in an attempt to help but stopped before he could touch the child, afraid of what might happen if he did. “It’s me.” He whispered and Harry frowned, not understanding.

            “What do you mean the tree’s you?”

            Draco swallowed visibly and then pointed to the light and then to his chest. “It’s me, the real me. It’s all that’s left.” He said, pointing again to the small ball of light flickering away inside of the tree trunk.

            Not fully understanding what the child was meaning but realizing that he shouldn’t push too hard on this subject, Harry tried a different approach, that may or may not be a completely idiotic choice. “What’re you afraid of?” He asked, trying to sound as gentle and concerned as possible so as to comfort the child.

            The boy locked eyes with him for a long moment before pointing behind Harry at the eternal darkness. “I was a bad person and the darkness found me. It did this.” Draco whispered, pointing back up at the tree behind him but this time at the blackness of the trunk and not at the small light still shining.

            Understanding dawning on him, Harry moved a bit closer to the young boy and held out his hand in a way that reminded him forcefully of the time Draco once held out his hand to him. “Will you let me help you, Draco? I know a thing or two about beating darkness away.” He said, giving the child a reassuring smile.

            Draco, however, looked at him in fear and shuffled back against the trunk. “Why do you wanna help me? I’m a bad guy.” He whispered fearfully and Harry had to forcefully hold back tears at the sight of this child pleading guilty to the wrongdoings of his adult-self.

            “Because you’re not a bad guy, Draco. You were just a scared kid in a bad situation. Will you let me prove that to you?” He asked kindly, holding back his tears as he continued to hold out his hand to the child.

            Draco’s blond eyebrows furrowed as he thought about Harry’s offer and shook his head for a moment before lifting up his eyes to meet Harry’s and took his hand. Grinning, he lightly squeezed the small hand and was shocked when their connection seemed to invoke something gold and silver to weave through their entangled hands and up the child’s arm and back through to the trunk behind him. The bright white orb inside of it glowed gold and silver for several moments before seeming to enlarge and spread down to the roots of the tree. The two colors that came from their embrace swirled together at the base of the tree until they combined to again be blindingly white. The tree had turned white from the roots all the way to Draco’s current standing height.

            When Harry pulled his eyes away from tree and down to the child, he couldn’t help but grin when he saw the small smile on young Draco’s lips. It was a small hope in the darkness. “Thank you, Harry.” Draco said and Harry blinked back his surprise, both at being thanked and the use of his given name by this particular blond.

            “No problem,” He murmured, releasing his hold on the small hand. He released a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding when he saw that the tree stayed the same way without him being connected. He could help Malfoy after all.

            He then felt a tug on his navel and his eyes widened in panic. Draco stood, wary of Harry’s strange expression. “Uhh, Dra-Draco, I have to go. I’ll be back soon, okay? I promise. Stay strong for me. I’ll help you.” He stammered out as he attempted to fight off the feeling of being pulled back. Malfoy’s child self looked on at him in fear but nodded slightly at his words. Satisfied with that, he stopped fighting and surfaced once more.

            When he opened his eyes, he was being pushed roughly away from Malfoy by a furious Narcissa, who was frankly a lot stronger than she looked. He collapsed onto the floor by the broken window and received a murderous glare from the Malfoy matriarch before she turned to check on her still sleeping son. Left to his own devices, Harry checked himself over and found that though he felt slightly weaker than he had before his experience in Malfoy’s mind, it was nothing to when the vines had attacked him. He was completely sure he could still do magic and walk around, though he knew that the connection with the child Malfoy had actually sucked away some of it and that the tree was most likely linked to Malfoy’s magical core. If he could just light it all the way up, he thought he might be able to wake Sleeping Beauty.

            Just as he started to pull himself to his feet, a tiny scops owl flew through the broken window and landed on the foot of Malfoy’s bed, holding its foot out to Harry. Recognizing the owl as Pigwidgeon and the writing on the outside of the envelope as Hermione’s, he took the letter and ripped it open, ignoring Narcissa’s fussing over her son as he did so. The letter was short (for Hermione), to the point, and without any trace of longing for him to return. Her written words cut at him with their sharpness, their analyticity.

            She talked about how combining one’s magic with someone else’s was dangerous and should only be attempted under the supervision of a trained healer, citing several reasons for this in bullet point formation not least of which included the entire absorption of one person into the other. Hermione also went on to give various hypotheses on why someone’s magic would be depleted including trauma, severe depression and the theft of it by a third party. She finished up with citing some connections between magical homes and their wizard occupants, most of which he had already read in the library before she had interrupted him.

            He was impressed by her research on the subject, given that he had given her little to go on and still refused to give her the time of day for fear that he might hurt her. It made something inside of him that had been long locked up ache for her friendship, for the close bond she, he and Ron had once shared. And as that feeling expanded, he found he was too tired to try and force it back down. He let the dam break and felt his cheeks warm up and his eyes begin to glisten as he let himself feel his loss, a loss he had gained by his own stupid, selfish mistake. Hermione was right. Hermione was always right. He shouldn’t have run away. He should’ve tried harder. Merlin, he missed them so much.

            “Mr. Potter?” said Narcissa and Harry jerked his head up, wiping the barely formed tears from his eyes. When he could see clearly again, he immediately took several steps back away from her for she was pointing her wand straight at his heart. She opened her mouth to either say something or curse him to oblivion, he wasn't sure, but then she seemed to change her mind and instead cast the same spell she had done earlier on him. She frowned.

            “What is it?” He asked in a quavering voice, unsure he should be testing her right now when she still seemed ready to attack him at a moment’s notice.

            Instead of answering, she pursed her lips and, with a voice like ice, said, “What did you do to my son?” Taken aback, he spluttered that he had no idea what she was talking about and that he hadn't done anything to Malfoy. By how narrow her eyes became, it was apparent that she didn't believe him. “I came in here to check on him and what do I find? I find you leaning over him and I saw…I saw your magic visibly pouring out from you into him. Now, I'll ask you just one more time. What. Did. You. Do. To. My. Son?”

            Swallowing hard, he took another step back. “I-I helped him. It's so dark in there. He's so scared. He needs light.” He stammered out, not really thinking about how much what he said probably didn't make sense.

            “What in Merlin’s name are you talking about?” She asked but he didn't get a chance to answer for in the next moment, Malfoy began to scream. Both of them jumped and turned towards the bed where the blond boy on the bed was suddenly howling in terror as he fought off an invisible enemy, his eyes still firmly shut.

            Harry rushed forward and when Narcissa tried to stop him, he looked straight into her eyes and tried to shake her off. “He needs me.” He said with such clarity that she released him at once. Ignoring the tiny thought in his head that spoke of Hermione’s warning of how dangerous this is, he pelted towards Malfoy and grabbed his shoulders in order to hold him down. “Draco!” He called out, vaguely sensing Narcissa’s confusion at his use of her son’s given name. His call did no good though; Malfoy just kept screaming, his body writhing on top of the bed.

            He tried to grab a hold of Malfoy’s face as he had done before in order to connect to him, but he was moving too much for Harry to be able to concentrate. Therefore, he turned his head around and gestured for Narcissa to help. Warily, she drew forward, her eyes filled with fear for her son. With Narcissa holding down Malfoy’s shoulders, Harry was able to grab a hold of his face and press their foreheads together again. Then, concentrating all his might on the terrified child within the man’s body, he dove within his mind for the second time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for the comments and the kudos! They really mean a lot to me! And if Draco seemed too OOC to you, don't worry, he's supposed to since that's only a part of him. You'll get to see him in full force later on in the story, I promise you. 
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading and as always, comments, etc. are always appreciated!


	5. Another Kind of Memory

            When he surfaced for the second time inside of Malfoy’s mind, he appeared right next to the tree, which he saw was still glowing at the same strength as he had left it when Narcissa pulled him away. However, as his senses reacquainted themselves with his surroundings, the scream Malfoy was making outside of his body was nothing compared to the chaos of the inside of his mind. The darkness was looming more heavily towards the tree’s light than it had been before and within it was flashes of red and green light, yowls of pain, high-pitched laughs of delight, and more oppressive than any of them was the sound of someone heaving thick sobs of desperation.

            Tearing himself away from the noise and lights within the darkness, he focused on the tree and the little boy that was now cowering in the light, tears staining his face and hands, flinching again and again at each scream or flash of light in the distance. Not completely sure of what he was doing, Harry crouched down next to him and pulled him onto his lap. The boy immediately let out a scream that made Harry cringe but he held tighter as the boy began to try and fight against him. “Draco! Draco, listen! It’s me. It’s Harry.” He said as he held tighter to him.

            Draco froze at the words and turned his small head, grey eyes glistening with tears. “Harry?” He said, his voice unsure and choked up from crying. Harry nodded, giving the child a small, crooked smile. Draco looked at him with uncertainty in his wet eyes for but a moment more before he wrapped his small arms around Harry’s chest tightly and continued to sob into his shirt. Harry held onto him tightly, rubbing his back and shushing him gently every time Draco gave a particularly loud sob. They sat like that together for a long time until Draco’s sobs subsided and he was able to peel himself away from Harry’s chest to fix him with a stubborn stare. “Will you stay this time, forever?” He asked and in his tone, there was no room for argument.

            Harry smiled and ruffled the boy’s blond hair. “I’ll stay as long as I can, but not forever. I’m not meant to be here, but I promise to come back when I have to leave. When you need me, I’ll come running like I did this time around, okay?” He assured him and though Draco didn’t seem too pleased with the answer, he assented and went back to holding onto Harry as tightly as he could. Grinning, Harry embraced him back and pressed a small kiss to the child’s forehead. At the touch, he felt something more than air leave through his mouth and Draco glowed gold and silver for a moment before the tree absorbed the energy, accepting the gift of Harry’s magic in order to help restore a bit more of its light.

            Harry watched in interest as the colors danced together within the tree, rising into the darkness and pushing it further up the trunk and away from the two sitting together at its base. When the light was at a point a little more than twice its former height, it slowed to a stop, the colors joining again to create the white light that shone over them, protecting them. Satisfied, Harry looked down at the child in his arms and grinned when he saw that he was nearly asleep, curled up in his lap with his cheek pressed against Harry’s chest. Slowly and softly so as not to disturb him, Harry ran a hand through the soft, blond hair, which was so unlike the greasy state of Malfoy’s current hair.

            Sitting here now with the physical embodiment of Malfoy’s mind curled up on his lap, Harry couldn’t help but compare the child he had found inside of Malfoy’s head and the man that he had grown up with. The child seemed to have no memory of Harry and so was kind and clung towards him whereas the Malfoy he knew would have never let Harry get this close, and for good reason, Harry thought. Malfoy and he had been on opposite sides long before there was a war to divide them, so why did he feel such an attachment to this child?

            He sat there with Draco sleeping on top of him for a long time as he thought about the Malfoy he knew and the Malfoy he never had because of his own bias towards him. He stayed, thinking, until he began to feel tired himself. Knowing that he couldn’t fall asleep here inside of Malfoy’s mind, he softly shook Draco awake. Sleepy grey eyes looked up at him in confusion and Harry smiled down at him. “Hey sleepyhead.” He murmured. “I have to go now, Draco, but I promise to be back as soon as I can, okay?” He continued and Draco nodded tiredly, a small but sad smile on his features. “Hey, hey, hey. You keep smiling for me, okay? As long as you’re in the light, the darkness can’t get you.” He said, ruffling the blond hair and hugging him tightly. “I’ll be back soon, I promise.” He said again and when Draco nodded, he lifted the boy up and placed him against the trunk of the tree. Grinning, he closed his eyes and concentrated on the bedroom where his body was in order to pull himself out.

            When he opened his eyes again, he was back in Malfoy’s bedroom and Malfoy was again as still and quiet as the dead. His eyes drooped, wanting to close again but he forced himself to move away from Malfoy’s sleeping face first, so that he wouldn’t fall on top of him. He let out a yawn and turned to face Narcissa, who was now sitting at the foot of Malfoy’s bed, her eyes only for her sleeping son. However, she must have sensed him watching her for she asked in a whisper without turning towards him, “Is he going to be alright?”

            “I think so, but not for a while.” He said tiredly after letting out another yawn as he thought of how large that tree in Malfoy’s mind was and how far they had to go before it would be all lit up again.

            “You’re helping him?” She said, again in a whisper.

            “Yeah, I think I am.”

            “Good. Please continue to do so.” She said and he did.

            After a long sleep, he went by the apartment he shared with Dudley and picked up a duffle bag full of clothes to last him a while, telling his cousin that he would be gone and that he didn’t know when he would be back, just that he would be eventually. He spent the next month in a state of determined exhaustion. He would sleep and eat and when he wasn’t sleeping or eating, he would be inside of Malfoy’s mind, talking and sharing his magic with the child Draco. Narcissa did not try to have another talk with him, but she did make sure that he was taking care of himself during this process by getting enough sleep and food, and staying clean. She was attempting to mother him as far as he could tell, but since her attentions were divided in wanting her son to be well, she only did the basics and had Mipsy do the rest.

            During this month, he had absolutely zero accidental magic despite his frazzled mind, which he supposed was a side-effect of consistently giving up some of his magic. When he expressed worry over this about halfway through the second week to Narcissa, she began to use that magic detection spell whenever he came out of Malfoy’s head and right before he went in to make sure that he was never weak on his magic and if he was, he would have to stay out of Malfoy’s mind longer until he had built up enough again. However, no matter what his state his magic was in, the visits to Draco always left him physically exhausted and so Narcissa had set up a bed on the other side of the room for him to sleep in so that he wouldn’t have to go all the way to the guest bedroom he had slept in at first.

            With each visit, the tree grew brighter and the child happier. Draco loved when Harry visited and with each time, he grew more and more excited to see him. He began to talk more too. He had started telling Harry about all his favorite sweets and which foods he absolutely reviled. He even started talking about his favorite subjects at school, which were Arthimancy and Potions. He spent quite a bit of time teaching Harry exactly what Arthimancy is since he hadn’t taken that one in school and some of the basics, which was quite hilarious to Harry since he was being taught this higher level knowledge by what amounted to a five year old.

            Overall, despite his constant exhaustion and the fact that this was _Malfoy_ he was helping, Harry was finding that he too was becoming increasingly invested in seeing Draco during his waking hours. Some small part of his mind was consistently reminding him that the child he was growing so attached to was Malfoy, and not just Malfoy as a child either. No, Draco was completely one hundred percent the Malfoy of the present. It was just that he was without his most hurtful memories because they were locked in the darkness and so the Draco he talked to was one without pain or sorrow, even though the child did know that it was there, always looming over him. It was because of this that Harry had separated in the majority of his mind the Draco inside of Malfoy’s mind and Malfoy himself. To him, Draco was fun and sweet and not at all a reminder of his past, whereas Malfoy…wasn't.

            Looking upon the sleeping Malfoy hurt. He blamed the man for so many things that he couldn't bear to even think to blame the child for. They were separate entities and yet, they were also one and the same. And somehow, that wasn't confusing to him, though it definitely confused Narcissa when he tried to explain it to her one night during dinner. To her, her son was her son and she loved him completely, so the idea of two different sides of him was unthinkable because to her, it was all one side. Harry didn't, couldn't, feel that way. How could he? After all he and Malfoy had been through, how could he begin to correlate the child whose innocence shone like the light of the tree in his mind to the man whose record was splotchy at best?

            The truth was, he couldn't. And so, when the month came to a close and Harry dived again into Malfoy’s head, he had a hard time understanding what his eyes were telling him. Instead of the barely more than a toddler child he had been spending most of his time with, next to the now mostly glowing tree trunk stood a smiling eleven-year-old Malfoy, looking exactly like he had when Harry had first met him, pointy features and all. The only problem with this image was that the kid was smiling at him and not a sneering, joking smile either. No, this was a full-on, I’m-glad-to-see-you grin. It was so bright and unfamiliar that it hurt to look at.

            “Harry!” The eleven-year-old called out when he spotted him in a voice disbelievingly close to something like friendship, something the first year Harry had known would have never done. Had Malfoy even ever called his friends, Crabbe and Goyle, by their first names? Harry didn’t think so. In fact, Harry believed he had introduced them to him by their last names way back on that first train ride. “Is something the matter?” The boy called out when Harry had not made a step towards him; Harry wasn’t even sure he could make that step. He had been running from his past for so long and now the very beginning of his introduction into the world he had run from was standing in front of him and he couldn’t bring himself to face it.

            “OH!” The boy finally cried out and Harry flinched back at the shout, his eyes flashing like a wounded animal that wasn’t sure if it could get away to safety or not. “It’s okay! It’s because I’m older, right? It’s still me: Draco. You helped so much that I was able to access a bit more of myself. Come on! Let me show you!” He said so excitedly that Harry became even more frozen to the spot, confused by the discontinuity between his eyes and his ears. His eyes said Malfoy and his ears said Draco, but Harry didn’t know which to believe, even with that small voice inside of him telling him they were one and the same.

            A small hand grabbed his wrist and he looked down to see the eleven-year-old tugging at his arm, concern and delight mixed together on the same pointed face. “Come on!” He cried out again and Harry’s feet let him move. This was Draco, he decided, squashing the voice once again that told him he was being stupid for separating them. Malfoy would have never been so adamant for his attention…or at least, not in this way. This child wanted to share with him his excitement over something he had found. Surely the Malfoy he knew wouldn’t have wanted to do that, right? He told himself no, of course not. Malfoy was a selfish prat that went to Daddy for everything and that’s all he was. Right?

            Shoving down his own internal debate, he let the child, Draco, lead him around the tree and into a space that used to be covered in darkness but now shone white as marble. Darkness or not, it was still completely void of anything, however. Frowning, Harry was about to ask what it was Draco wanted to show him here of all places, but the child just held a finger to his lips in a symbol for silence. Then he looked up and held out his hands, palms up. Harry looked up as well and saw that way above them was beginnings of silver leaves on white branches, branches that went as far as the eye could see and even further still, though mostly in darkness as only the beginnings were visible now. Then, slowly, as if called by Draco, a single leaf began to fall from the branch directly above them.

            When it landed softly in Draco’s open palms, Draco lowered his hands and offered it to Harry. Confused, Harry asked what it was. Draco smiled. “I found it while you were gone. There are so many of them, but this one was special because it’s of you. Go on, take a look.” He said happily, but that just made Harry even more nervous. However, Draco was waiting, so he lifted the leaf out of his palm and immediately almost dropped it for it changed color at his touch from silver to gold. He cried out an apology, trying to give it back to the child, but Draco just smiled and shook his head. “It’s fine. Just look.”

            Unsure what he meant by look, Harry lifted the now golden leaf up to his eyes and twirled it in front of him. When nothing happened, he began to try and give it back again, when the leaf in his hand suddenly transformed into what at first looked like one of Trelawney’s crystal balls but in reality was a giant, nearly solid water droplet. Eyes widening, he glanced again at Draco but he just made another encouraging movement with his hands. Feeling both stupid and insane, Harry took a deep breath and then plunged his face into the water.

            When he opened his eyes, he wasn’t him. There was another voice talking in his head other than his own and he had no control over what it said. It yammered along, talking about where his mother and father were and if he could get ice cream at Fortescue’s or not and how he couldn’t wait to get his hands on the new Nimbus 2000, first-year rule be damned. It took Harry a while to realize that these were thoughts he was hearing, but once he did, he was able to focus on his other surroundings besides the extra voice in his head. He was short, much shorter than he was now as he couldn’t get a very good look what was in the windows in the shops that he passed. He recognized them though, even at this odd angle. He was on Diagon Alley and it was as it had looked before the war.

            He remembered being excited about seeing all of this for the first time, but he supposed that this was not the first time Draco had been here, for his thoughts were more focused on certain things like books and broomsticks and getting his own owl than looking at his surroundings. Harry…err, Draco…or was this Malfoy?....either way, they, since Harry had fused with the young Draco Malfoy, made their way down the street and paused outside of Madam Malkin’s Robes for all Occasions, the Draco in his head wishing he could be doing anything else but this while Harry began to realize exactly when this was.

            As one, they strutted into the shop and demanded to see Madam Malkin about Hogwarts robes, just be pushed off on some other worker to be fitted. It was strange, hearing Malfoy’s eleven-year-old voice come out of his mouth with words he, Harry, would never have said. Malfoy was put off at first because of this, quickly realizing that he did not have the command that his father seemed to have over people and wishing that his parents hadn't left him alone after all even though he had begged them to do so.

            When the seamstress began to fit Malfoy for Hogwarts robes, Harry learned quite quickly that Malfoy had sensitive skin. Each time a needle accidentally poked through the fabric and hit his skin, Harry inwardly flinched at the pain and was actually surprised that Malfoy didn’t once complain about it. He just stood silently and waited for her to get on with it so that he could leave this shop and go on to more interesting things. The seamstress Malfoy had ended up with must have been new because she took a lot longer than Harry remembered Madam Malkin ever taking with his robes, and so he could feel Malfoy growing bored as the minutes dragged on.

            Therefore, when the bell chimed to announce a new customer’s presence, their joint eyes swung around to see a small, skinny boy in oversized clothes and taped glasses. Never having seen himself from the outside, Harry was rather shocked by his ratty appearance, even knowing that he had very little choice in the matter at the time. However, he was even more stunned by the thought that ran through his head that was not his own: _Cute_. When Madam Malkin chose to fit Harry herself, Malfoy wasn’t even jealous. His thoughts were occupied with how to come off the most impressive to this new boy, not because he wanted to show off or even because of who the boy was (since Harry could see that his scar was hidden underneath his bangs so Malfoy had no idea who he was). Malfoy just wanted to earn Harry’s respect, for some unfathomable reason.

            _Cute_ was the only thought running through Malfoy’s head as he started to talk to Harry’s younger self, and then _how horrid_ when Harry mentioned his parents being dead. When Madam Malkin finished with Harry and he left, Malfoy was left feeling idiotic and like he had messed up, since he had gotten the impression that Harry didn’t like him at all. This new angle from this conversation had Harry’s head whirling so much that he didn’t even realize that he was being pulled out of the memory until he was standing again in front of the tree inside of Malfoy’s mind, looking upon Draco.

            “See! I remember you! There are loads of other memories with you too, though those aren’t quite as nice.” Draco was saying as Harry tried to focus his mind back on the present. With those words, Harry didn’t even have to hold one of the many leaves above his head to recall his encounters with the young Malfoy. So much pain, so much anger. They had hated each other from the start. Or had they really?

            “I…I think I need to go, Draco.” He said uncertainly, feeling quite off balance.

            Draco frowned for just a moment for grinning again. “Okay! And I’ll come too.” He exclaimed.

            “You-you’ll what?”

            “I’ll come too. I think I’m ready.” Draco repeated.

            Harry took one look at the miles of darkness that that was still around them in every direction and shook his head fervently. “No. You’re not ready. You need more time.”

            “No, I don’t! I’m ready now.” He said again, more adamantly. And then, before Harry could tell him no again, something hard and fast pushed against him and he fell out of Malfoy’s mind.

            Panting, Harry opened his eyes and immediately scrambled backwards and fell off the bed and to the floor. Sharp grey eyes watched him from the bed, narrowing to barely more than slits as they took in his appearance. The thin lips curled open and a rough voice spoke from within: “Potter.”

            Malfoy was awake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so off schedule for this one. Nearly forgot to post it today and I'm not finished with the next chapter yet. Eck. Hopefully I'll be able to catch up this week and post on time. As always, let me know what you think! I've been loving your comments so far!


	6. Rejected

            They sat in a tense silence for what seemed like hours but in reality was only a few minutes at most. Piercing grey eyes stared angrily into flustered green ones, sweat steadily beading on their foreheads from the heat cascading in through the broken window. Then, as if woken from a nightmare into another nightmare, Malfoy drew himself up into a sitting position, his eyes never leaving Harry’s face. When he was fully sat up, his body began to shake as he wobbled unsteadily. His eyes left Harry’s to look down at himself, widening in a way that suggested surprise and pain.

            Harry made a move to get up but as soon as those eyes shot to him again, he stopped in a half-crouch, one hand pressing against the wall to support himself. “Potter.” Malfoy repeated, his voice coming out just as rough and cracked as it had the first time. His paler-than-normal hand shot up to his neck at the word and Harry watched as he swallowed, his face twisting in pain at the simple action. Harry shifted in his position, not sure what he was going to do but just knowing that he had to do something. Malfoy, however, did not give him that chance. “Potter, what did you do to me?”

            For some unfathomable reason, that accusation pierced Harry like a knife where he half-stood, half-crouched. It hurt to hear the blond blame him so readily for the pain that he felt, especially when Harry had spent the last month attempting to relieve the man’s pain. The absolute abhorrence that was radiating from Malfoy’s every movement towards him made him ache for the child locked inside of the man’s mind that would look upon him with adoration. Where was his Draco? “D-do you not remember?” Harry stammered out as he finally pulled himself all the way to a standing position though with a hand still on the wall to steady himself in case his body decided to give out on him.

            Malfoy eyed him in a way that reminded Harry agonizingly of Professor Snape, a look that was equal parts dissecting and loathing. When Harry didn’t say anything more, the gaze became more thoughtful and Harry’s hopes flickered a bit when one long-fingered hand rose to touch a shiny, scar-free forehead in exactly the spot where Harry always placed his in order to connect with him. Malfoy frowned at Harry’s expression and opened his mouth to say something, perhaps that he did remember, when the door opened and a shriek of delight rang out followed closely by a loud crash as a silver tray laden with sandwiches and pumpkin juice toppled to the floor.

            Narcissa dashed through the entryway, ignoring the tray she just dropped and the alarmed house-elf that was now beginning to pick up the mess, on her way to her quite amusedly befuddled son. She flung her arms around him and Harry heard a hiss of pain escape the blond at the tightness of her hug, but she was apparently deaf to it for she continued to hold onto him in a rush of emotion that he had never guessed she could make, what with her pureblood, high society upbringing. After several moments of this, Malfoy slowly lifted his arms and gave her a few pats on the back, his face distorted with discomfort. She pulled herself away and then, as though she couldn’t help herself, gave him a kiss on the cheek.

            “Mother, what is _he_ doing _here_?” Malfoy whispered but his voice was so rough from disuse that he ended up saying it loud enough for Harry to hear. Harry shifted where he stood, taking a step in the direction of the door. Malfoy’s eyes jumped to him again and Harry froze, unable to move under that intense grey stare. Narcissa looked over at Harry as well, though her gaze was far gentler than Malfoy’s. She gave him a small smile and hushed her son, saying something in a quiet voice that Harry didn’t quite catch. However, whatever it had been, it must have had an effect on Malfoy, for he was turning a very shocked gaze onto Harry.

            “S-should I go?” Harry muttered, shuffling his feet and feeling very much like he was intruding on a personal matter that didn’t involve him.

            Both the Malfoys looked towards him and spoke at once.

            “No, you’re fine, Harry.”

            “Yes.”

            Both Harry and Narcissa focused their attentions on Malfoy, whose stunned look had given way into narrowed seething once more. Seeing Harry’s upset face, Narcissa turned to her son and said as gently as she could probably manage, “Draco, dear, let’s not be rash. Harry has done wonders for you lately.”

            Draco looked very close to snapping as he replied in a dark tone, “I don’t care what he’s done, Mother. He’s not staying here.”

            “Well, of course not here. He’d be staying in the guest bedroom now that you’re awake.” She said but Harry could tell immediately and he guessed so did she that this was the wrong thing to say. Malfoy’s eyes snapped to the transfigured twin bed that was pressed against the wall on the other side of the room and then to Harry and back again before he turned on his mother.

            “He’s been staying in _my_ room?” He very nearly growled, the scratchiness of his voice making it seem more animalistic. Narcissa went pale and her lips thinned considerably, her mouth opening several times before seeming to give up on whatever she was about to say. Seeing that an explanation from her was a lost cause, Malfoy jerked his head back in Harry’s direction. “Get. Out.” He said, his voice taunt with fury.

            “B-but you’re not healed yet. And…” _Draco needs me._ He finished internally, realizing that that would be the wrong thing to say, not least of which because it would make no sense to the current Malfoy.

            “Draco, darling, you need to listen. Harry’s been helping you and he needs to continue to do so until you’re better.” Narcissa tried again, reaching out to touch his shoulder.

            Malfoy threw her off and said in a strangely even tone, “I don’t need him.”

            It was this, more than anything, that made something in Harry snap. He’d been using his magic for so long to help restore Malfoy, that he hadn’t had the need to push it down since he barely ever was left awake with more than a normal amount of magic, having given the extra to Draco. However, he hadn’t had the chance to give any to Draco that last visit and he was bursting with an overabundance of it now and seeing the blond reject his presence so forcefully, made it erupt inside of him.

            The whole house began to shake around them, the force of the quake vibrating from Harry as his magic escaped, his eyelids blinking back unchecked emotions. Vaguely, he heard voices speaking, but he was only the quake, the quaver, magic overwhelming him as he tried to fight against both it and his emotions. It was just Malfoy. So what if Malfoy didn’t want-need him? Did it really matter? But his mind was laughing at him, throwing him pictures in his mind of all the gentle things he had done with the child Draco and even some of the kinder things that Malfoy had done in his lifetime. And a handshake. One that was turned down instead of accepted. Not wanted. Not needed. A waste of space. A freak. A mistake. Raised like a pig for slaughter. Supposed to die.

            _SLAP!_

            Harry came to and the shaking immediately stopped. The two Malfoys were staring at him: one with righteous anger, the other confused terror. Narcissa was seething. “Mr. Potter, I warned you, did I not? I must ask you to leave the Manor. I will take over caring for Draco from now on.” She said, her tone clearly one to not contradict.

            Seeing that he had royally messed up his chances of staying to see Malfoy to full recovery and very much doubting that he would ever have a chance to see his Draco again, Harry _accio_ ’d his belongings to him and gave a small apology to Narcissa before walking towards the door. Right before he stepped into the hallway, he turned and looked at Malfoy once more, who was watching him with interest now. Trying very hard to hold in a sigh, Harry turned away and left the Manor, apparating from the gate to the empty alleyway near Dudley’s apartment.

            Amy was thankfully not there when Harry entered the apartment, so he didn’t have to worry about hiding his wand or his foul mood. Dudley was surprised to see Harry return when he passed through the living room where his cousin was watching the news. He started to greet him but stopped, Harry supposed, because of the air of dejection that Harry thought was probably actually visible around him since he was in such an awful state. Therefore, Dudley changed his greeting to a question of if he was all right, but Harry ignored him, heading straight to his room and dumping his stuff on the floor beside his bed before he collapsed on top of it.

            “Harry?” Dudley called from the doorway. “Are you okay?” Harry gave enough effort in order to lift his face from the pillow and send his cousin a withering look before the door shut in Dudley’s face without Harry even lifting a finger. Somewhere in his mind, he knew he was being unfair to his cousin and that Dudley had done nothing wrong for years, but he needed time to figure out what was wrong with him and Dudley’s nagging would only get in the way of that. So he lay there, face in the pillow and not even bothered to take his glasses off even though they were cutting into his skin. He lay there and waited for his world to make sense and for the aftershock of the quake to stop ringing in his ears.

            Unbeknown to Harry, he spent the next several days in his room, having an internal war with himself. To him, the days blended together, day and night being one and the same. Sometimes, Dudley would knock at the door and wait for a while before leaving once more. Other times, he left food at the door, only to pick it up again in an hour, untouched. Inside the room, Harry’s surroundings had turned to chaos without him ever having lifted a finger against his belongings. Clothes were scattered across the floor and furniture; his desk was turned over with one leg sticking out at an awkward angle, splitters waiting to harm the first person that got close; even his bed was on its side, sheets hanging in tatters off of it. In the very center of the room, on the floor, was Harry, eyes closed and fists clenched.

            Inside his mind, there was a tidal wave happening that he couldn’t stop crashing over him. The deaths of all his loved ones, the childhood abuse that he had yet to come to terms with, and the gnawing guilt of being a horcrux and keeping Voldemort alive all rivaled for his attention inside of mind, showing him pain and misery at every step. He couldn’t hold it back. _Clear your mind_. Snape’s voice whispered to him and Harry tried, tried again to push everything away like it had been for months. But then Snape’s dead body, blood oozing from the snake bites, flashed before his mind and he lost what he had been able to pick up. He was in pieces and he had no idea how to put himself together again or else, push it all away.

            He had been living in a fairytale where nothing hurt and whatever did, he could lock away inside of his mind with his magic. Because with the pain, came the spurts of accidental magic, and someone got hurt. But now, he could feel nothing but pain and his magic bubbling under and over the surface of his skin, destroying the room around him. He couldn’t control it. He didn’t know how. Using it to help Malfoy, to connect to him, had made him let his guard down because for just once in over a year, it listened to him and his needs.

            Now, all he could hear were screams from the Battle of Hogwarts, Sirius and Fred’s last laughs, the Weasley’s heart-wrenching sobs, and the eternal silence that had followed the war where everywhere he went people were grieving for their loved ones or their homes or the fall of the government itself. Always grieving. Always looking to him with that hopeless look that said they wanted him to take the pain away, for him to make it better, because even though he’d done his job and defeated the darkest wizard of their age, no one seemed to think he had done enough. They wanted, needed more. They needed for everything to be cheerful again, but no matter how much he tried, it was like a whole cloud of Dementors were surrounding the community and no one, not even him, could cast a patronus.

            On the third day, Harry opened his eyes and stood, shakily, his body unstable after not having eaten for so long. When he reached the door and it opened automatically, he saw the sandwich waiting for him on top of a plate on the floor. Gratefully, he ate it like a dying man and then went forwards into the kitchen to find more. Dudley looked up when he entered and gave a concerned smile, or so Harry thought for he couldn’t see Dudley’s lip but his mustache curled up so it must be so. Pulling some peanut butter and bread from the pantry and jam from the refrigerator, Harry made himself about five sandwiches and then proceeded to eat all of them, all while ignoring Dudley’s penetrating stare.

            When Harry began to make his sixth sandwich, Dudley gave a pointed cough and Harry finally met his eyes. They looked at each for a long time before Dudley finally broke and said, “Harry, it’s time.” Harry blinked blankly at him, not understanding. Dudley gave a long, loud sigh. “Look, I know you’ve been through some shit, but you can’t keep running away. You were gone for so long, I thought perhaps you had decided to go back, but then you come back here looking like the dead and refuse to leave your room. It looks to me that you’re running away again, and I’m sorry, but I can’t be your safe house from the world anymore. I’ve asked Amy to move in with me and she’ll be here at the end of the week. You have until then to move out.”

            Harry blinked slowly as his chaotic mind tried to process what his cousin was saying. Then, as he finally thought he understood, he asked, “You’re kicking me out?”

            As if sensing an eruption, Dudley came around the counter and put his big, beefy hand on Harry’s shoulder. “You need to go home, Harry. You need to face your demons. So yes, I am.” He said in a surprisingly gentle voice.

            His mind whirling, he found that he couldn’t quite grasp the concept of what Dudley was saying. He knew, somewhere in his head, what he meant and so nodded, but he felt like his head was filled with clouds and so the exact nature of Dudley’s request failed to hit him. In a daze, he left the kitchen and headed back to his room, his eyes glazing over the tattered state of his belongings before leaning down next to his old school trunk that Dudley had saved for him and began to put everything he could reach inside of it and summoning what he couldn’t reach. When he was done, the room still looked a mess, though a much emptier one.

            Thinking that there was nothing more to be done about it, he pulled the trunk behind him as he left the room and headed into the hallway. He met Dudley there, who sighed and told him that he wasn’t kicking him out right now and that if he needed to rest some more, he could. Harry just shook his head and muttered about getting out of Dudley’s hair before leaving the apartment behind all together. He walked, unsteadily, towards the dark alleyway that he usually apparated from, cursing every so often when he tripped on air or when the trunk got caught on something. He apparated upon arrival into the alley, holding firmly onto his trunk as he did so.

            Dazedly, he gazed along the dank city street and the old houses that lined it, half expecting to see a giant black dog bounding towards him or a shock of pink hair on top of a grinning face. Of course, he was greeted with neither. Slowly, he pulled the trunk along and up the familiar steps to the dark house that only he could see, a large number twelve gleaming at him through the gloom above the door. Dudley had said to go home, but as he gazed upon the door in front of him, Harry didn’t know if this was his home or not. It was his, surely, but what was a home when the only place that ever felt like one was a place he could never return to?

            Sighing, Harry reached forward and opened the door to 12 Grimmauld Place, which he supposed was the closest thing he had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry for taking two weeks this time (though I did say every week or every other week on the first chapter ^^;)! I'm all caught up now and will have a chapter ready for you next Friday! Let me know what you think of this one, because it took me forever and I'm still not really happy with it.
> 
> As a side note, I just want to say that this story will be Harry-centric since it's about him gaining control over himself and finding out who he is. Draco is a part of that, but the Drarry stuff won't be happening for quite a while. Hope that doesn't bug anyone since I promise it will happen...just later rather than sooner.


	7. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After having been lost for so long, it is time for Harry to return home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Hope you like this chapter! I've had numerous requests to post faster (which is great, because that means you like it) but I can only write so fast when I have school and work to attend to as well, so it'll stay every week on Friday (unless something comes up that requires for me to take longer). As always, let me know what you think and I'll see you next week!

            When Harry awoke the next day it was to a clear mind and an empty house. His eyes scanned the room he was in and he sighed contentedly when he realized that this was not the room he was dreading entering. Instead, he found himself in the small room that he and Ron had shared back in the days of the Order of the Phoenix. Surprisingly enough, the room was completely free of dust despite him not setting foot here since his departure to the Ministry during the War. He had spent the time he had lasted in the Wizarding World after it with the Weasleys at the Burrow instead so that he could be close to the family he had adopted.

            The only thing that was off about the room was the fact that there was a noticeable spot on the wall that was far less sun-stained than the rest of the wall. A nail hung loosely from the wall on this spot as if it had held up a great weight for a long time and wished to fall out of the wall now that its job was seemingly completed. Harry suddenly let out a laugh that echoed through the empty house and sent shivers down his spine when he remembered what, or rather who, had hung there in that spot previously. He wondered what became of that particular portrait of old Phineas Nigellus since he couldn’t quite remember if Hermione had been able to stuff him back in her bag when the Snatchers found them.

            Feeling far more calm and less dead inside, Harry got out of bed and rifled through this trunk for something clean to wear, realizing quickly that he’d left his bathroom supplies at the apartment and definitely not feeling up to going back so soon after his moody retreat the day before. Internally berating himself, he cast a quick cleaning charm on himself, something he’d never been good at, and changed into a fresh muggle outfit. He shoved some muggle money he found inside of the trunk into his trouser pockets and left the room, intent on finding the closest market and buying just the basics that he would need if he was going to stay here for a decent amount of time.

            As he walked into the hallway and started down the stairs, he began to notice how clean the place was. There was not one spot of dust anywhere that he could see, though he supposed if Aunt Petunia was looking with her eagle eyes, she probably could have found some. The wood on the staircase even looked, dare he say it, polished. He recalled Kreacher gaining a knack for cleaning after Harry gave him Regulus’s locket, but he had told Kreacher to help out at Hogwarts so there was no reason to keep up with Grimmauld since Harry wasn’t staying here. However, Harry could think of no one else that would have done this even if he could not think as to the why.

            Nevertheless, as he moved further along, he began to notice more little changes to the house besides it being clean. Stairs that used to squeak no longer did. While the house used to smell like dust and mold, it now smelled of wood polish and something lemony. The biggest changes, though, occurred as he was almost to the entrance hall when he ducked his head on instinct to avoid the house-elf heads when he noticed that they were no longer there. Instead, pictures were hanging in their place and there was no doubt in his mind who had been helping Kreacher out. The pictures were all of Harry and the people he had not seen in ages. Smiling from every frame were Ron and Hermione, Luna and Ginny, Neville, even Seamus and Dean, and, of course, the entire Weasley family plus he and Hermione, Fred still laughing as he and George picked on Percy.

            Tears welling up in his eyes, Harry pulled himself away from the moving pictures and into the entrance hall, where he was met with the largest change yet. At first he thought just the age-old wallpaper had been changed, but then he began to realize as he got closer that it was not just the wallpaper, it was an entirely new wall. Someone had knocked in the wall in order to remove Walburga Black and replaced it with a new one, a clock hanging where Sirius’s mum used to. He couldn’t imagine that Kreacher had been all too happy about that change.

            Then, an idea occurring to him, he went immediately into the drawing room and gave a sigh of relief when he saw that the tapestry was still there. He didn’t know why he liked it when he knew Sirius had hated it, but then, Sirius had hated everything about this house and for good reason. Harry, however, had a different connection to this place than his godfather did. This was a place of gatherings and where he once hoped he could stay if the Ministry expelled him. He had been happy here once upon a time, but now it was empty and despite the obvious upkeep, it was silent as a grave.

            His stomach gave a sudden growl and he tore his eyes away from the tree on the wall to head back out into the entryway, deciding that he would continue exploring the house for more changes after doing a bit of shopping. As he neared the exit, he noticed that the umbrella stand Tonks used to trip over was gone as well. Shaking his head, he eased himself through the door and set off down the busy muggle street with cars honking and tires screeching, the muggles stuck in the usual morning traffic. He found a small grocery store about a block away from Grimmauld Place and ate breakfast at the café inside of it before picking up some necessary bathroom supplies like razors and soap and enough food to last him about a week if he paced himself.

            When he returned to the house, he went straight into the kitchen and was mildly surprised to see that nothing had changed in there besides it being unusually clean. His eyes glanced quickly at the fireplace and then away again, his mind helpfully supplying him with memories of when _his_ head had been floating in the flames that were now nonexistent. He stored the cold items in a cupboard that had long ago been cast to stay cool at all times, like a refrigerator without the electricity, and placed the rest of his food items in the empty, dust and spider free, pantry.

            He then took the stairs two at a time back up to the second floor to place his new supplies in the bathroom and take a shower because try as he might, his cleaning spells weren’t that great and even good cleaning supplies were nothing compared to an actual shower, as he had learned from his year long trek in the woods where it was either dive in the nearest, probably not sanitary, pond or be subjected to Hermione’s most powerful cleaning spell, which always left him feeling like she just removed a layer of his skin. The water was the perfect temperature, magic tuning in to his skin needs in order to make it so. After fully cleaning himself, he took the time to shave his face since he hadn’t taken the time to do so since before his extended stay at Malfoy Manor. Feeling a lot better, he dried himself off, tied a towel around his waist out of habit and headed back to the second floor bedroom to dig through his trunk and pull out a comfortable pair of jeans and an old t-shirt to wear around the house just in case Kreacher or whomever had been redecorating turned up.

            He spent the rest of the morning exploring the house and trying to remember what had been there previously and what was added or removed now. Most of the bedrooms had had the beds and bedsheets replaced with a more updated style; though most of the dressers had been left alone besides being cleaned out, their contents replaced with extra sheets and towels. The carpets had all been torn up and replaced and the bathroom floors all looked as if they had been retiled. The bathrooms themselves had been remodeled with new bathtub-shower combos, brand new toilets, and even, in some cases, new sinks. The only bedrooms that had been left alone were the two bedrooms on the third floor that used to belong to the Black brothers, Sirius and Regulus. Regulus’s room had been cleaned up a bit but otherwise left alone. Sirius’s room, Harry had found out after spending a good half an hour standing at the door debating with himself on whether or not to enter, had been left completely as he had left it before their departure to the Ministry to get the real locket; the only indication that someone had been in there since was that it had been dusted.

            Somehow, he did not go to pieces when he stepped inside of Sirius’s old bedroom, though he supposed that was because, despite being more awake now, he was still numb after his panic attack over the past few days. He found the first page of his mum’s letter to Sirius and traced over his words with his fingers, knowing now what the missing second page said and wishing he had that one as well, wondering if he could find it among Snape’s old things. Now that he was in the room he had so dreaded entering, Harry couldn’t even think about leaving it. He spent the next several hours just combing through the various letters and books he could find in the room, lying on the bed and staring at the pictures on the wall of Sirius and his old school friends, Harry’s father grinning from the majority of them.

            He was so absorbed in the life of his godfather and, by proxy, his parents that he didn’t realize that it was late afternoon until his stomach let out a loud growl to complain that it had been ages since breakfast. Setting an old quidditch manual aside, Harry crawled out of bed and headed back down three flights of stairs and down into the kitchen. He was halfway through deciding whether to make a sandwich or pasta when he felt eyes on the back of his head. Harry swung around, his wand raised with a curse on his lips when he realized who was standing next to the counter, a wrench in one hand and a shiny silver doorknob in the other.

            Ron and Harry stared at each other in shocked silence for several long moments before Harry realized that he was still pointing his wand at Ron’s heart and lowered his hand, arm shaking. Ron placed the wrench and doorknob on the counter and took a step toward Harry before seeming to think better of it and sat down at the long table instead. His blue eyes watched Harry unblinkingly as if he was afraid that Harry might disappear if he closed them. Realizing quite plainly that he was cornered and there was no way to run from this one, he slowly and unsteadily walked forward until he was across from his former best friend and then sat down at the table as well.

            They sat in silence for a while more before Harry decided that if someone was going to break it, he might as well be that person, so he said, “H-how are you?”

            Ron stared blankly at him for a moment longer before frowning and saying in a dead sort of voice, “Fine. I proposed to Hermione.”

            “I heard. Congrats.” Harry said, his voice coming out hollow.

            “And you? Hermione said you were living in Muggle London and on some kind of wild goose chase.” Ron said, his voice now sounding like acid.

            Harry swallowed painfully. “I-I was…but that’s over now.”

            Ron’s eyes narrowed. “So what? You got tired of whatever was so exciting over there and decided to pop back here and hide out before running off to your next great adventure?” He spat.

            Harry lowered his eyes to the table and muttered, “Something like that.”

            Ron stood up. “‘Something like that’? Are you kidding me, Harry? You disappear for ages without even a single goodbye and when Hermione finally finds you, you drive her sick with worry over you doing something stupid and then, to top it off, you never respond to her letter. Now you show up here and don’t even bother to tell us you’re back and all you can say is that you’re just going to leave again? Why even come here in the first place?”

            Harry stood up too. He felt awful about making Hermione feel like that, but she had known what she was getting into when they met. He had made sure she knew quite clearly that he didn’t want to return and that she shouldn’t get her hopes up. As for Ron, Harry didn’t care a knut what he thought.

            “It’s my house. I can come here if I like.” He snapped back, the house beginning to shake around them.

            Ron, seemingly not noticing the shaking, looked ready to hit something. “Your house? Are you serious? You haven’t been here in over two years. If it were up to you, this house would be crawling with all sorts of things by now, but if you haven’t noticed, it’s not and you know why? Because Hermione, Ginny, Luna, Neville, and me have been cleaning it up, finishing what we started before fifth year so that this place would be livable one day.”

            “Well, I didn’t ask you to do any of that.”

            “You didn’t have to! It wasn’t meant for you anyway.” Ron yelled back, his ears going red with anger.

            Harry found that hard to believe, what with the pictures on the walls that all included him and the way Sirius’s bedroom had been left as if waiting for his return. “Well, that’s just great. But as it’s my name on the deed, it’s still my house. Maybe you should just buy it from me and I’ll get out of your hair permanently.” He growled, the shaking growing more prominent as his anger grew.

            “That’d be wonderful. Just go running off again because that’s the only thing you’re good at! As if we’d want you around anyway!” Ron bellowed, his face now completely red.

            That hurt.

            “Well, of course _you_ don’t! _You_ don’t want me around unless I’m with your precious baby sister!” Harry snapped.

            Ron punched him and the shaking of the house stopped.

            Harry stumbled backwards into the counter and drew his hand up to his nose, which was now bleeding profusely. He looked wildly at Ron, who was now shaking all over, his eyes angry slits. “You think that matters? You think I was only friends with you because of Ginny? You make me sick!” He had stopped shouting but his voice was a dangerous low and filled with a strange mixture of hatred and disappointment. He sent a glare at Harry and then left the kitchen and Harry behind.

            After a moment of indecision, Harry, still staggered by the blow, ran after him and had nearly caught up by the time Ron reached the door. Ron turned around with the door open and glared at him. “If you’re just going to tell me to stuff it and that this is your house, don’t worry; I got the message. None of us will bother you and your house anymore.”

            Harry shook his head and said through his broken, blood-filled nose, “’m shtarry.”

            Ron stared at him incredulously. “You’re what?”

            “’m…” Harry trailed off and gestured helplessly at his broken nose. Ron sighed and waved his wand. With a crack, his nose was fixed and the blood was gone. Harry swallowed and steeling his shoulders, he looked into those blue eyes that he used to know so well and said, “I’m sorry.”

            Those two words must have been enough because Ron understood and closed the door behind him with him still inside the house. Harry watched him warily and when Ron gave a small smile, Harry grinned back. Ron shook his head, his smile growing, and then he punched Harry again, though this time much lighter and on the shoulder. “You great, big idiot. What the hell did you run away for?”

            Harry legitimately thought about it for several moments before shaking his head and just laughing. “You know, I swear to Merlin it was a good reason at the time, but now it just seems so stupid. Scared, I suppose. We had that fight so you weren’t speaking to me and my magic was exploding all over the place. I didn’t want to cause anyone more pain by accidentally hurting someone.” He tried to explain, thinking as he spoke that he wasn’t doing a very good job of it.

            Ron shook his head again and rolled his eyes. “Like I said, you’re just the daftest person ever. The Moron of the Wizard World. The Chosen Dunce. The Idiot Who Lived. I could keep going.”

            Harry couldn’t help but laugh at the play on all his titles. “You should send those to Rita. She’d pay you a fortune.”

            Ron laughed as well. “Haven’t you heard? I’ve already got a fortune. The Wizengamot gave the Lestrange vault, you know the one we stole from, to us since Mum killed Bellatrix. That’s some great irony, right?”

            Harry’s eyes widened in shock. “How’d the goblins take that?”

            Ron grinned. “They put up quite a fight when we showed up with the key. The MLE had to detain some of them and force them to let…well, me specifically, into the vault. They didn’t really care about the rest of the family, just me. O’ course, they don’ really like ‘Mione or me setting foot in the building, much less going to the vaults. Bet they’ll be right pissed when you show up.” He then paused and his smile fell slightly. “Y-you are coming back, right?”

            Harry nodded without having to think about it. “Yeah, yeah I am.” He said and was surprised by how calm he sounded. All that mattered was that Ron was there, because home had never been a physical place for him. Home was wherever Ron was, because Ron was his best friend, his first friend, and Ron _was_ home.


	8. Friendship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, it's not that easy to forgive someone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! So sorry about not posting yesterday! I completely spaced. I will hopefully have a chapter for you on Friday if I can finish it in time. Hope you guys enjoy this one even though it's a day late! ^^;

            Harry and Ron spent much of the rest of the day in the refurbished drawing room, laughing about old stories and informing each other about new ones. Harry did most of the listening when they discussed what had happened recently because other than the fiasco that was helping Malfoy (which he refused to disclose when Ron asked, thinking that whether he had been kicked out or not, it would be bad form to tell others about Malfoy’s condition when Narcissa was trying so hard to hide it), he had no noteworthy news.

            However, Ron didn’t seem to think so. When Harry told him about staying with Dudley for the past two years, Ron’s eyes had widened so much that Harry was concerned that they were literally going to pop out of his skull. Ron had a lot of good questions about living with Dudley, which Harry was only happy to answer. He told him about Amy and how Dudley and she had been dating for quite a while. Ron laughed and couldn’t believe that the whale of a boy he had only met a couple of times had managed to get a girlfriend. He was slightly disappointed though that Harry had nothing bad to really say about his cousin since he had been quite a decent roommate and now that he was sitting here on a brand new couch laughing with his best friend, Harry didn’t even find it in himself to be upset that Dudley had asked him to leave.

            Ron, however, had a lot of stuff to catch Harry up on because it seemed that everyone had moved on without him – not that Harry was surprised, though he was beginning to become upset with himself for having let that happen. Luna, it seemed, had gone abroad at the end of last year searching for interesting creatures and had come back a few months ago with a boyfriend that was apparently the grandson of the writer of one of their old school books, Newt Scamander. Rolf, according to Ron, was very quiet most of the time except when he would see an interesting creature or plant and then he and Luna would go off for hours discussing it. Ron wasn’t really sure if he liked him, but then, he seemed almost perfect for Luna, especially since – and Ron said this with a strange mixture of disgust and admiration – Rolf had a tattoo of basilisk on the back of his right shoulder that moved and changed colors in certain lights. Harry had the distinct impression that he had asked Hermione for a tattoo only to be turned down and asked as much.

            “Oh, yeah. Hermione yelled at me for about an hour about all sorts of idiotic things ranging from impressions to what it would teach our children. _Our children_ , Harry! As if that’s going to happen anytime soon!” Ron had fervently told him, his ears going pink at the mention of kids.

            Neville, on the other hand, had joined the Aurors with Ron for a while but about a week after training had been completed, he got an owl from a local – famous, according to Neville – greenhouse and after freaking out for several days, had sent in his resignation to the Ministry and up and left to train under a master herbologist instead. He was also regularly sending owls to Professor Sprout, their old herbology teacher, asking for advice and had recently received an owl back saying that once he trained up a bit more, she would take him on as an apprentice at the school because she was looking to retire within the next couple of years. To top it off, Neville was also currently dating Hannah Abbott, a Hufflepuff in their year that Harry could barely remember.

            Ron’s family all seemed to be doing fine as well from the way Ron described them. Lee Jordan and Angelina Johnson had decided to help George get the shop going again and business was booming. Charlie was still in Romania but it seemed that he had found something else besides dragons to interest him because he had come home over Christmas to introduce Gabriel, his Romanian boyfriend. Bill was now working full time at the Gringotts in London, having decided that Egypt was no longer an option now that Fleur was pregnant. Percy was still working in the Ministry, now in the Department for Magical Transportation, which Ron said was very good for him. Ron also had the suspicion that Percy was dating someone, but since Percy had yet to introduce them to the family, Ron couldn’t know if he was right or not. As for Ginny, she had run off to join the Holyhead Harpies and was now their star chaser.

            Ron was just about to start telling Harry what he and Hermione were up to when the drawing room fireplace lit up and Hermione’s head appeared in the flames. “Ronald, it’s really not that hard. You either like the daffodils or you don’t. I swear, you can’t just go running off to fix Grimmauld whenever you can’t answer a simple question about the wedding plans.” She began talking immediately, not seeming to realize that Harry was also in the room. Harry glanced at Ron with an eyebrow raised and Ron shot him a look in return that clearly said _don’t start_.

            “ _Hermione_ , I said I liked the daffodils, but then you went off about lilies instead and I needed some space, okay?” Ron said, stressing her name like he was close to the breaking point.

            “Ronald! We don’t have _time_ for you to take some space. The wedding planner said that the flowers should have been picked by now.” She said impatiently.

            “Merlin’s pants, Hermione. We don’t even have a _date_ set.” Ron groaned and Harry began to think by the look on Ron’s face that they had had this argument a lot before and not just about flowers.

            “Personally, I like lilies.” Harry piped up, grinning.

            Hermione’s sharp eyes shot to him and she screamed in shock before flinging out a stream of curses that Harry hadn’t even known were in her vocabulary. In the next second, she had pulled her face back out of the fireplace and then appeared in full form through the same fire. She raced towards him, not even bothering to pat the soot off of her clothes, and flung her arms around him, which was slightly awkward as Harry was sitting down.

            When she pulled away, Harry could see tears streaming down her face but she was smiling, so he hoped that he was right in assuming that they were happy tears. Blind from her tears, Hermione stumbled backwards and sat on a leather recliner, her watery brown eyes staring at Harry like she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Harry’s feeling of guilt from earlier returned and increased in magnitude. He grimaced at her. “H-hi Hermione. I’m err…back.” He said, attempting to turn his grimace into something that resembled a smile.

            At that, she stopped crying at once and narrowed her eyes at him. “Back? Why?” She asked in a sudden clipped tone, watching him carefully.

            Harry’s face flushed and he looked down at his hands, feeling the remnants of the feeling of Malfoy’s face on them. His mind helpfully supplied him with Malfoy’s intrigued look as he left the Manor and he tightened his hands into fists. _Because I had nowhere else to go_ , Harry thought but knew better than to say that when he knew she had gone out of her way to help him with Malfoy’s problem even though there had been no guarantee that it would make him come back. He knew it would be harder to earn her forgiveness than it had been with Ron after how he had treated her in the recent past.

            Harry peeked a glance at Ron but he was staring at him with much the same look as Hermione, as if waiting for the answer since they hadn’t fully discussed why he had returned to Grimmauld, even with talking about Dudley. Drawing up what little courage remained to him, Harry looked up at Hermione and managed to say, “Because someone told me recently that I had to stop running away and I finally listened.”

            Hermione apparently did not approve of this answer, however, because she hissed out between closed teeth, “Why now?”

            Harry thought again of Malfoy and how his younger self had liked him and had wanted to be his friend but then had grown up to hate the very sight of him. He didn’t want Hermione or Ron to look at him like that, ever. Thinking of Malfoy though made him think of the perfect answer to Hermione’s question. “Because I realized that it is possible for me to control my magic with time. I just need something to share it with.”

            Hermione’s eyes widened and she gasped, her hand coming up to cover her mouth as she seemed to come to some sort of understanding that had both boys looking at her in confusion. She stood and took a couple of steps toward the fireplace, looking as though she were itching to be in the library, a look that was still very familiar to Harry even after all this time. She then turned back around and stared at Harry, contemplating him. “You gave him your magic even though I warned you not to, didn’t you?” She accused him and he bowed his head.

            She let out a hiss, and Ron stared, befuddled, between them. She paid him no mind, however. “Oh, Harry! You great blundering idiot. You could’ve _died!_ ”

            “I was careful.” Harry muttered, not looking her in the eye and instead going back to staring at his hands, suddenly wishing he could take another shower because obviously he had not scrubbed enough.

            “Oh, Harry. Was he really worth it?” She said, sitting back down again. He could feel her eyes analyzing him, but he refused to look up.

            “Y-yes, n-no…I don’t know, Hermione, okay? It was just something I had to do.” He continued to mutter, feeling awful because it hadn’t mattered anyway. Malfoy hadn’t fully healed and both the Malfoys still despised him. What had been the point?

            Hermione gasped again and Harry looked up at her. She had gotten to her feet again and turned around so that her back faced both he and Ron. She was looking at the tapestry on the wall, which was still as messed up as it had been when Sirius was still around, blasted faces and all. Harry followed the angle of her head and swallowed hard when he saw Malfoy’s name. She turned back around and stared at him, taking in his face which he knew had always given him away.

            “Malfoy, Harry, really?” She asked and though Harry had no idea how she had figured it out, he felt no reason to lie to her anymore, especially not if he wanted her to forgive him. He nodded slowly and she closed her eyes tightly for a moment before sighing and sitting down once more on the recliner. “I knew he was in a bad way. I was picking up some supplies at St. Mungo’s a little over a month ago and I saw Mrs. Malfoy come in asking for help for him but they turned her away. I didn’t even think…I didn’t spare a thought…I didn’t know he was that bad. How did you get involved?”

            “Narcissa owled me.” He said shakily.

            “And because it was Malfoy, you, what, jumped?” Hermione asked, her voice wavering on exasperated. Harry frowned at her wording but found that he couldn’t deny it because that was exactly what he had done. “Oh, Harry…” She sighed, shaking her head.

            “Okay, can someone slow down and explain to me what Malfoy has to do with any of this?” Ron interjected and both Harry and Hermione turned to look at him in surprise, having nearly forgotten that he was there.

            Harry looked between them and swallowed hard, drawing up his courage. “I’ve err been staying at Malfoy Manor for the past month, helping Dra-Malfoy. He lost most of his magic and had fallen into a coma of sorts and I kinda pulled him out by giving him some of mine.” He explained.

            Ron and Hermione both spoke at once. Ron said, “You gave _him_ your magic?” and Hermione, “You were _staying_ there?” He nodded to both of them and leaned back into the couch, exhaustion beginning to creep up on him. He hadn’t talked this much, or indeed had this much human interaction, in a very long time and the strain of it was taxing.

            “Harry, I know you’ve always had a sort of weak spot in regards to Malfoy, but he’s not worth risking your life for.” Hermione said quietly, as though talking to a toddler about why they couldn’t play with something dangerous.

            “I don’t have a weak spot for Malfoy.” Harry grumbled, his mind betraying his words as he recalled spending hours just holding Draco when he was frightened to tears by the darkness. His hands tingled again and he rubbed them furiously against the couch as he reminded himself that Malfoy had rejected him and there was no point in feeling anything anymore for the child when the adult stood in his way. His rubbing ignited the couch and he flinched away into Ron, staring at his burnt hands as Hermione extinguished the fire with a flick of her wand.

            “I think you do, mate.” Ron said from behind him and Harry moved away, still staring incredulously at his hands. His accidental magic had never hurt him before.

            Hermione stood and walked towards him, her wand drawn. She muttered something Harry didn’t quite catch and his hands were both encased in a teal liquid that felt cool against his skin. The liquid swirled and flowed over his hands and then with another mutter from Hermione, disappeared. The burns were gone. He looked up to thank her but she just smiled and shook her head as if to say it was nothing.

            She returned to her seat and then said, “Harry, I’ve been thinking about your problem ever since I saw you last month and with what you said today, I think I might have a solution. It’ll take a while and it’ll be hard, but I’m pretty positive that it’ll work. Would you be willing to give it a shot?”

            Harry gaped at her and Ron smirked. “Hermione, you can’t just ask him like that. You have to explain yourself properly.” Ron said, grinning now, and Hermione blushed a deep crimson.

            “Right. So I noticed you doing wandless magic when we met before and not just the accidental stuff, either. You read my aura.” Ron stopped smirking at her words and turned to gawk openly at him

            “So?” Harry asked, wishing she would just cut to the chase and that Ron would stop staring.

            “Harry, that’s really advanced magic. Most people can’t do it even with a wand. I have a theory that if you were to focus your magic into a particular point like you did with the aura reading, you would be able to control it.” She attempted to explain.

            “I’m not following.” Harry said slowly.

            “Wandless magic! Harry, wands are meant as a funnel to pull a wizard’s magic out of them and through the core to form spells because as a wizard ages, the magic in them becomes far less accessible, mostly due to the loss of innocence. You don’t need that. If you practice enough, you’ll be able to focus your magic on your own and do spells without a wand.”

            “I’m still not getting it. How is that supposed to stop me from setting things on fire or starting earthquakes?”

            “Concentration. If you train your magic to obey your will; it won’t flare up at your various emotions.”

            “So what? I’m supposed to clear my mind and concentrate all the time? I don’t know if you remember, but I’m not the best at that. Remember the Occulumency fiasco?” He snapped, getting tired of her not fully explaining herself, forgiveness be damned.

            Hermione huffed. “That’s not what I mean at all. Look, just give me a chance to try to teach you once and if you don’t think it’s going to work after having tried for a while, then feel free to figure it out for yourself or else, let Malfoy suck you dry.”

            Harry stood up at that, seething. “That’s not what happened and you know it.” He spat angrily.

            “I don’t know anything because I don’t know if you’ve noticed but it’s been _two years_ since you tried to contact us.” Hermione hissed back, staying seated but glaring up at him.

            “Hermione, stop it. Harry, _sit down_.” Ron spoke up, his voice not one to contradict. Hermione sighed and relented; Harry sat back down on the couch. “Okay, look you two. Hermione, I’m not saying forgive him, but at least try not to rub it in his face. Harry, give Hermione’s idea a try. It can’t hurt. Okay?” Harry and Hermione both nodded, not looking at each other. “Good. Now who’s up for dinner?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few of you have asked about when Draco will be coming back and I had originally not had him returning for a while, but the story's taking a slightly different turn, so I promise he will be in the next chapter. See you on Friday!


	9. Responsibility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When you're the most famous person in Wizarding Britain, Diagon Alley is definitely not some place you should take your almost three-year-old godson. But then, there's a reason Harry wasn't in Ravenclaw.

            After a tense dinner where Ron was the one that tried to start conversation to which Harry and Hermione only spoke if they were directly addressed, Ron and Hermione left with Harry’s promise that he wasn’t going anywhere. When they were gone, Harry groggily pulled himself up to the bedroom he had stayed in the night before, grabbed some pajamas and trudged up to Sirius’s old room. He fell asleep almost immediately after his head hit the pillow, his dreams filled with Malfoy calling out to him but Harry never being able to answer.

            At half past ten the next morning, Harry found himself in front of a small house with a well-kept garden. He walked up the small path and knocked on the front door. There was a moment’s jostling inside of the house before a woman with black hair and sharp eyes answered. She took one look at him and then slammed the door in his face. Knowing that he deserved that and more, he waited a few moments before knocking again. There was silence inside the house this time though he knew she must be right behind the door thinking about whether to answer it again.

            When finally she opened the door, it was only just enough for Harry to see half of her face and a small part of her body. “What do you want?” She hissed quietly, making Harry wonder if the person he came to see was within earshot of the door.

            Harry grimaced and held his hands out in a gesture of peace. “I want to see you and Teddy, please. I’m sorry it’s been so long.” He said in an equally quiet voice so as not to upset his two-year-old godson if she decided to not let him in.

            “Two months. He hasn’t seen you in two months. No warning, no note, nothing. What kind of godfather does that?” Andromeda whispered angrily, still refusing to open the door any more than she had already.

            Harry bowed his head and shuffled his feet. “A very stupid one.” He said and then looked up hopefully when he heard her give an angry sigh.

            At his look of hope, Andromeda gave him a deep scowl and shook her head in obvious annoyance before opening the door all the way for him. Trying very hard to not grin too much, Harry nodded his thanks and entered the house. He didn’t have to look very hard for the child because when he turned the first corner, something turquoise shot out from the shadows and latched onto his leg. “‘Arry, you’re back!” Teddy squealed and jumped up and down with his hands in the air and an unmistakable glint in his eyes.

            Laughing, Harry leaned over and picked up the turquoise-haired child and proceeded to tickle every part of skin he could reach. Teddy squirmed and giggled, screaming for Harry to stop. Harry refused to for just a little bit more before hearing the door close and turning back to Andromeda who still stood next to it. She was eying him in a way that suggested she very much wanted to give him a lecture but Harry was in much too good of a mood to let her. Therefore, he leaned his head close to Teddy’s and spoke in a whisper loud enough to carry across the hall to his grandmother, “How would you like to go out today, squirt?”

            Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Andromeda’s eyes widen in shock for just a moment before narrowing in suspicion. Harry tried his best to ignore the woman, focusing his attention on the small boy whose hair was changing color rapidly from his trademark turquoise to the exact shade of black as Harry’s. “Where? The park?” Teddy asked, looking now very much like what Harry supposed _his_ dad would’ve looked like as a kid with that shock of black hair and blue eyes.

            Harry shook his head, still smiling softly. “Nah, the park’s boring, right Ted? You always go there.” He paused for Teddy to agree fervently with a nod of his head. “Right. So how about we go shopping, _Diagon Alley_ perhaps?” He asked, stressing the name of the street for Andromeda’s benefit. She couldn’t hide her gasp of surprise this time, but Harry continued to focus his attention on Teddy. He seemed to be struggling with whether to be happy or not and Harry supposed his hesitation was due to the fact that Andromeda probably took him there when she wanted to do some shopping and so he was used to it. Therefore, to seal the deal, Harry said quite clearly, “I could get you your first broomstick while we’re out.”

            That did it. Teddy started squirming immediately to be released, so Harry set him down. Teddy immediately ran as fast as he could, only stumbling a bit here or there, to Andromeda and looked up at her with pleading eyes. “Gran, can we go? Pwease?” Teddy whined. Harry saw Andromeda’s brow furrow in frustration, most likely caused by the fact that Harry had just promised her almost three-year-old grandchild a broomstick. However, he could also see some interest behind those dark eyes about why in the world Harry would want to go to the busiest wizarding street in London when he had so adamantly refused for the last two years.

            Andromeda stared at Harry for a long moment in that dissecting way she had that generally sent shivers up his spine but couldn’t affect him today. Frowning, she turned back to her grandson and gave an exasperated nod of the head. The toddler let out a squeal of excitement and waddled back to Harry as fast as he could, jumping up and down to be held again. Chuckling, Harry picked him up and walked towards what was once Tonks’ bedroom but was now all Teddy’s, complete with quidditch inspired wallpaper which had snitches and brooms that really moved and a ceiling that shone with the stars above at night but appeared to be a blank canvas during the day.

            Harry struggled to hold down the excitable child as he attempted to change his clothes from his pajamas to something that would be more suitable for a day out on the town. To Harry’s surprise, he put up quite a fight when Harry tried to pull the Chudley Cannons shirt that used to be his favorite over his head. After watching him struggle for quite a while, Andromeda finally took pity on him and explained that Ron had taken Teddy to a match and after watching the team lose spectacularly, he had decided that he didn’t like them anymore and now refused to wear the shirt. Harry, feeling chastised for being gone so long and not knowing this, put the shirt aside and grabbed a generic green one that Teddy allowed for him to pull over his head.

            Once his godson was completely dressed, Harry hoisted him up to Andromeda’s obvious distaste, though she didn’t say anything, and walked towards the living room, Andromeda following. They took the floo to Diagon Alley as Teddy was still too young to side-along apparate, Harry and Teddy first and then Andromeda. They landed inside the mostly empty Leaky Cauldron as it was early morning on a weekday. A couple of people looked up as the trio walked towards the backdoor to the Alley but none of them spared more than a glance, most too absorbed in their own lives or too tired from the early hour to bother paying them much mind. Harry was grateful for his luck, but knew that as the day went on, that luck would dwindle into nothing, which, he supposed, was his goal in proving to Andromeda and Hermione that he was back to stay, even if Andromeda didn’t yet know that.

            They paused in front of Quality Quidditch Supplies when Teddy started whining about wanting the broomstick Harry had promised him and Harry had to speak with him in low, serious tones that they would come back after getting money from the bank only if Teddy behaved himself. Teddy fell immediately silent, abashed, and Andromeda’s eyes widened, impressed by Harry’s quick thinking and paternal nature towards the boy despite not having seen him in a while. After that one interruption, the toddler was mostly quiet in Harry’s arms as they walked along the mostly deserted street, only making noise and pointing when he saw something he was interested in the windows of the various shops.

            When they entered Gringotts, Ron’s prediction came true almost at once. As their steps echoed along the marble hall, Harry could feel more and more eyes lift up from their work to steadily glare at him. None of the goblins made a move to stop his progression up the long hall, but every single one of them fixed their beady, untrusting eyes upon him with a look of utter loathing. The looks they gave him were nothing compared to the look he had received from Malfoy when he’d woken up from the coma, but they were intense and slightly terrifying just the same. He held Teddy tighter to him, only partially ashamed that he was using the child as a shield in case one of the creatures decided to enact the thoughts that were so clearly laid out upon their pointed faces.

            When he reached the podium at the back of the hall, a goblin that he didn’t recognize but most certainly recognized him shot a glare his way before holding out a long-fingered hand. Flustered, Harry handed Teddy to Andromeda and then hurriedly began digging through the pockets of his robes, which he had snagged from the back of Sirius’s old closet since he didn’t actually own any anymore. He pulled out two keys, one to the Potter vault and the other to the Black vault though he couldn’t quite remember which was which since they both looked exactly the same, and handed them to the waiting goblin. The creature snatched them away and eyed them both in a way that suggested he thought they might be fakes. After several awkward moments, the goblin finally looked up at him, eyes narrowed, and said, rather reluctantly, “Everything seems to be in order. Which vault would you like to visit today, Mr. Potter?”

            Releasing the tension that had been building in his shoulders, Harry said, “Just the Potter one today, thanks.”

            “As you wish,” The goblin replied, his tone implying that he would rather be doing anything other than fulfilling Harry’s wishes. “Nurgus will take you down to the vault. Nurgus!”

            A squat goblin that looked as if it was lacking in most of its brain power from the way that it looked up at Harry with a kind of dazed look appeared almost immediately beside the podium. “Nurgus reporting for duty, Gar- _hiccup_ -lok sir.” Nurgus said and Harry was made immediately aware why his look was so dazed. This goblin was drunk.

            Harry shot Andromeda a wondering look but she just shook her head and bounced Teddy in her arms. “We’ll just wait for you here, Harry _dear_. Have a fun trip.” She smirked and then waved him off. Harry gave her a scathing look before retrieving the keys from Garlok and following a stumbling Nurgus towards the cart that would take them both below.     

            One wild cart ride later, which involved Nurgus puking up what was unmistakably firewhiskey over the side not once but twice, Harry, Teddy, and Andromeda left Gringotts, Harry’s pockets rattling with wizard gold and the goblins looking in much better spirits after seeing Harry’s face after he had gotten out of the cart. When they emerged out onto the street, there was a much larger crowd gathered to do their shopping than there had been before the Gringotts trip. This time there was no escaping the double-takes that the witches and wizards did when they saw him or the whispering that seemed to accumulate as he walked among them holding Teddy once more.

            When Teddy pointed something out and told him to look, Harry looked over and accidentally caught the eyes of a complete stranger. That stranger stared at him in shock for but a second before apparating away, probably, Harry thought, to go get reporters because the great Harry Potter had returned from the dead. Realizing he was now glaring at thin air and Teddy was still speaking, Harry turned his attention back to the child and followed his finger to see the shop front of the Magical Menagerie, which had several different types of owls in large cages on display. Upon seeing a snowy owl, Harry lowered his gaze and hushed his godson, promising him that they would look later if they had time.

            Upon entering the quidditch supply shop, Teddy immediately wanted to be let go so Harry set him down and followed him to the back of the shop where the junior quidditch league supplies were located. After much debate between Harry and Andromeda on what constituted a decent broom for a toddler (Teddy was just happy to look at all the makes and models), they decided on one that went at max three feet above the floor and was the same color as Teddy’s hair usually was. Teddy was ecstatic, Andromeda concerned. Harry had to talk her out of forcing him to buy pads, telling her that a couple of bumps and bruises weren’t going to phase Teddy what with his being Tonks and Remus’s son.

            When they exited with their prize wrapped securely up in Andromeda’s arms (Teddy was once again being held by Harry), they were immediately accosted by the bright flashes of cameras and the loud babble of a crowd of reporters. Harry swallowed hard, held Teddy tighter against him, and grimaced in apology at Andromeda. She just smiled grimly in return. Then, together, they faced the crowd and tried to force their way through. The reporters were like a solid wall for as much as they parted, however.

            “Mr. Potter, where have you been?”

            “Mr. Potter, whose child is that?”

            “Mr. Potter, is it true that you spent the last few years in America fighting giants?”

            “Mr. Potter!”

            Teddy shook in his arms, black hair melting away to reveal his natural sandy brown curls, face pressed against Harry’s shoulder.

            Worried about his godson and pissed at the reporters that even two years later wouldn’t leave him alone, Harry could feel his magic leaking out of him, desperate to cause some damage. Angry enough to not care, Harry turned to Andromeda and inclined his head in a way to indicate that they should leave. She nodded and they began to push harder against the crowd in order to get through; every camera that swung their way as they went made a satisfying crunch thanks to Harry’s now smoking magic.

            They were nearly through the crowd when a shock of blond hair moved through Harry’s field of vision. “Harry?” Andromeda asked gently over the chatter when he came to an abrupt stop. Harry wasn’t listening. It couldn’t be. Harry began to move fast, shoving people out of the way in order to follow the blond head that he could just barely see.

            Harry’s arm shot out and his hand closed over a sleeved arm. A pointed face turned around and green eyes met grey. A surviving camera flashed and the sickly pale face flinched.

            “Malfoy…” Harry trailed off; now that he had caught up to the blond, he had no idea what he wanted to say to him.

            They stood there and stared at each other, Harry lost for words; Malfoy waiting impatiently for Harry to release him. A movement in Harry’s arms drew both of their attention to find Teddy – still clinging to Harry – looking at Malfoy with interest. The wavy brown hair at once lengthened and turned the same white-blond that Malfoy had.

            “‘Arry, who that?” Teddy asked.

            Harry looked again at Malfoy and was surprised to see that his already pale face had seemed to lose even more color at the sight of Teddy. “This is…” He started to explain while looking at Malfoy’s suddenly fearful face. “A friend.” He finished rather lamely, not sure if he should have introduced him as family when Narcissa’s reaction to his suggestion of meeting Andromeda was still so fresh in his mind.

            Malfoy’s reaction to his calling him a friend was rather complex. It looked as though he were partially relieved to not have Teddy know that they were cousins, partially upset that Harry hadn’t told Teddy just that, and also partially confused as to Harry’s use of the term friend instead of something more neutral such as acquaintance or school-mate if he wanted to avoid the term ex-rival. When Malfoy realized that Harry was contemplating his facial expressions, his face became oddly blank and he tried to take a step back before seeming to remember that Harry was still holding rather tightly onto his arm.

            When he lifted a pale, bare hand and grabbed onto Harry’s, Harry experienced a shock of something warm run down his arm to his hand. The light smoke that had been following him since exiting the shop and seeing the reporters encircled his arm and wrapped around their hands before being somehow absorbed into Malfoy’s skin. They both looked at each other in alarm and he heard Malfoy say in astonishment, “ _What_ _the_ _bleeding_ _hippogriff_ ” without his lips moving and come to think of it, without any sound either.

            “Harry?!”

            They both jumped away from each other at the call, Harry finally releasing his grip on Malfoy’s arm. He turned his head to see that Andromeda had caught up at last, clutching a stitch in her side with a murderous glint in her eyes. “What…was…so…important…that you…had to run…like an elf that…forgot to do a…chore?” She huffed savagely, her breathing labored. Frowning, he turned back around to point Malfoy out to her but the blond had disappeared once more into the throng of people. He looked down at Teddy as a second-resort because of his hair but at Malfoy’s departure, Teddy once more looked like a miniature copy of Harry, green eyes and all.

            “I…I’m not sure.” He said, mostly honestly. “Let’s…let’s go.” He said, his voice uncertain and dazed from his interaction with Malfoy who had disappeared so completely it was like he had never been there at all.

            Except, as they used the floo in the Leaky Cauldron to go back to Andromeda’s house, Harry couldn’t help but think that some of his thoughts weren’t his own. For one thing, they mentioned him using his surname. For another, they sounded suspiciously like Malfoy as they complained in length about him. He needed to talk to Hermione.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you go! Draco! If only for a short while at the end.  
> As always, let me know what you think! I love receiving messages from you guys. It always makes my day. See you next week!


	10. Sanity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hearing voices that no one else can hear is never a good thing, not even in the Wizarding World. Especially not when that voice belongs to Draco Malfoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are so lucky there is a chapter today after the week I've had. I'm literally dead on my feet and said feet want to fall off. 
> 
> Anyway, I suppose I should include a warning. There's a mild um, sensual scene in this chapter and I'm not sure how the rating system fully works on here yet, so if you think I need to up it from Teen and up to something more mature, please let me know and I'll change it. 
> 
> As always, I hope you like the chapter and see you in a week!

            Sending a message to Hermione was rather more complicated than he had anticipated. After spending a couple of hours helping Andromeda supervise Teddy with his new broomstick in the backyard, he had returned back to 12 Grimmauld Place with every intention of talking to Hermione about his _connection_ , for lack of a better word, to Malfoy and how to remove it because he had spent the entire afternoon hearing Malfoy count potions ingredients, of all things, in his head. However, he didn’t know how to get in contact with her. He no longer owned an owl and he had no idea where she lived so he couldn’t floo or apparate to that location. He thought about flooing the Burrow but cast that aside almost immediately because the thought of seeing and speaking to any of the Weasleys besides Ron frankly made him ill. His last thought was to contact Andromeda and ask her but since had literally just left her and he knew Teddy was taking a nap, he thought it best not to disturb her.

            Thankfully, just as he was about to give up and floo Andromeda anyway, the doorbell rang. Harry jumped in shock at the sudden noise and stopped his pacing of the drawing room to half-walk, half-jog to the front door. He glanced quickly through the peephole and sighed in relief when he saw that it was Hermione. He opened the door, grinning, and gestured for her to come in. She glanced up at him and frowned deeply, causing his grin to falter. She walked forward into the house went immediately into the drawing room. Sighing for quite a different reason this time, Harry shut the door and followed her, wishing Malfoy would shut up about lacewing flies.

            _Merlin’s pants, Potter! I wish_ you _would shut up. I lost count!_

            Harry stopped so suddenly in the doorway to the drawing room that Hermione gave him a very shrewd look as if she were contemplating how much sanity he had left after being gone so long. Trying very hard to look like he was completely sane and was not in fact hearing voices, or rather a single very annoying voice, in his head, he moved completely into the room and sat on the couch across from the chair that Hermione had chosen to seat herself in.

            “So…you’re still here.” She said slowly, her arms crossed over her chest.

            “Yes,” He said more forcefully than he had intended because his attention was so divided between her and that ridiculous counting that Malfoy was stubbornly keeping up.

            _It’s not_ ridiculous _, Potter. It’s necessary when you want-oh, never mind. Why do I even try?_

            “Harry? Are you okay?” Hermione asked and Harry pulled himself out of his – or Malfoy’s – thoughts.

            “Yes. No. Err, what were the side effects of sharing magic again?” He asked, trying to sound off-handed but afraid he ended up coming off worried anyway.

            Hermione’s eyebrows shot up. “Why?” She snapped in that tone she used when she knew Ron or he had done something stupid.

            “I might be hearing Malfoy’s voice in my head…” He said in a mumbled whisper and when she asked him to repeat himself, he did in a louder and more concerned voice.

            _Oh, yes, Potter. Blab to Granger. That’ll solve everything; that will._

_Would you rather be stuck inside my head for the rest of your life?_ Harry thought back, not sure if Malfoy could hear him or not since he had absolutely no idea how this worked or, indeed, why. There was silence in his head for almost a whole minute before Malfoy replied in the negative. Well, that proved he could communicate with the blond.

            “Might be, Harry? It looks to me as if you are not only hearing his voice but having a conversation with it.” Hermione said and Harry came back to the real world once more.

            Harry grimaced at her. “Well, to be fair, the conversation thing just started about two seconds ago.”

            Hermione’s frown deepened even more. “And how long have you been hearing his voice before that?”

            Harry swallowed hard and pulled his knees up to his chest, kicking off his shoes in the process. “Well, we kind of met in Diagon Alley today and I was having some magic leakage issues due to reporters, so when he touched me, we experienced some sort of shock and my magic was absorbed into him. I’ve been hearing him nonstop since. Though that wasn’t really it, to be honest. I heard him last night and I thought I was just dreaming that, but now I’m not so sure.” He explained as best he could, not fully wanting to look her in the eyes so he fiddled with a small hole in his robes.

            Hermione sat back in the chair and examined him as if he were an interesting specimen that she wanted to dissect. Harry leaned back further into the couch. “The magic thing might just have been residual from you transferring it for so long but to connect your minds…that shouldn’t have happened, unless…how exactly did you share your magic with him?” She spoke in a way that suggested she was mostly speaking to herself in order to organize her thoughts until the very end when she looked up at him expectantly.

            “I…I went into his head.” He muttered, face warming at the memory of the connection he had felt towards Draco.

            “With legilimency?”

            “Not-not exactly.” He muttered, remembering quite clearly the feeling of pressing his hands on either side of Malfoy’s face and touching their foreheads together. He could almost feel Malfoy jerk as the memory somehow transferred to him.

            _You went into_ my _head! How dare you! And Mother let you?_ Malfoy was furious inside of his head and Harry got the impression from the train of his thoughts that he was going to go track down Narcissa.

            Malfoy was still shrieking profanities at him when Hermione stood up, strode up to him and rapped him hard on the side of the head. Harry cried out and flinched back, the pain in his head combined with Malfoy’s yelling was sending him whirling in confusion. _Shut up. Shut up. SHUT UP!_ He yelled mentally until there was silence in his head though the pain from Hermione’s blow still stung. The problem was that almost immediately after Malfoy stopped screaming at him, Hermione started.

            “Harry James Potter, you absolute _dunderhead_! You idiot. You prick! Y-you…oh, you better bloody be praying Harry that you are lucky enough that I am concerned about your wellbeing because otherwise I would be cursing your insides out! You didn’t even read my warnings, did you? Oh, don’t you dare give me that look. If you had any sense to listen to what I wrote, you wouldn’t be in this situation right now! Don’t you know how dangerous mental magic alone is? This…this…Harry, I don’t even know if there is a cure for this! You might be stuck sharing a mind with Malfoy until one of you dies or worse.

            “There are so many possible consequences for this. What if he falls into another coma? What would happen to you? If he dies, you could too. You spent a whole month not only sharing your magic but actually interacting within the confines of his mind. Even mind magic doesn’t usually go that far. It’s an invasion of privacy and worse, it’s dangerous for both parties. You could have altered some of his memories or left him worse off than he was before. Not to mention, you left yourself open by connecting with him like that. He could’ve attacked you, left you with your brain destroyed, or else absorbed you.”

            Sensing that she wasn’t about to stop and since his head was still throbbing, he stood up and pressed his hand over her mouth. “Hermione, those things didn’t happen. I’m alright and he’s out of his coma. The only problem is that we’re hearing each other’s thoughts. It might fade. Maybe I should just give it some time. Didn’t you come over here to train me?” He asked, hoping that it would sufficiently distract her.

            She narrowed her eyes at him and stepped back so that her mouth was free again. However, she did shake her head and say, “Yes, I did. Fine. This isn’t over though, Harry. If this keeps up, I’m going to have to examine you both to see if I can remove the connection before it damages one or both of you.” She stared him down until he agreed and then, satisfied, she pulled out her bag and began summoning and resizing several books out of it. Harry smirked at how things hadn’t changed but she ignored him, setting the books in three piles on the coffee table.

            Once she was done, she stepped back and said, “Levitate the top book in the middle pile.”

            Harry frowned at her but pulled out his wand anyway. She immediately snatched the wand from him when she saw it. “Hey!”

            “Wandless training, Harry. Levitate the book without your wand.”

            Feeling foolish, he stared at the indicated book and willed it to move. He tried calling up his magic as he had done when messing with Dudley’s television but though he could feel his magic there and he made a couple of sparks run along his fingers but the book refused to move. After several minutes of trying to focus with Malfoy now ranting about his mother’s lack of consideration for his privacy, he sighed and shrugged his shoulders at Hermione.

            She frowned and shook her head. “Try saying the incantation and maybe doing the motion as well.”

            Harry shot her a nasty look. “The swish and flick? How am I supposed to do that without a wand?”

            “Just try it.” She snapped, folding her arms tightly over her chest.

            Wishing he could tell her off but knowing that she was just trying to help, Harry turned back to the books and focused on the top middle one again. He lifted his right hand, put his fingers together and flicked his hand in the motion that he would normally have done with his wand. “ _Wingardium Leviosa_ ,” He said but nothing moved. Annoyed, he focused harder and did it again. Nothing. When he tried for the third time, the top middle book did move. The problem was that so did all of the other books and they only shifted slightly where they were and definitely did not rise into the air.

            “Focus, Harry.” Hermione ordered and Harry really wanted to snap back but instead stayed silent. He tried again.

 

            When Hermione finally called it a day, it was dark outside and Harry’s robes were soaked with sweat. He had managed in the last hour to lift each book separately into the air until they were all floating above the carpet. In the last half hour, he had managed to do the same with only using the hand motion and thinking the incantation. When Hermione called it, he dropped his concentration and therefore, the books. Quick as ever, Hermione threw a stasis spell on them so that they wouldn’t tumble to the ground and collected them all into her bag again.

            Harry wanted very much to collapse onto the couch behind him and pass out but his need for a shower far outweighed that. Before he could express that need, however, the doorbell rang out. When Hermione jumped guiltily, Harry stared at her and waited for her to explain. Instead of doing so, she danced around him and out of the drawing room. “I’ll get it, shall I? You go take a shower.” She said, failing miserably at sounding nonchalant.

            Frowning after her, Harry shook his head and knew that whatever she had planned couldn’t be good but he was too tired to care. He followed her out of the room but instead of going to the front door, he went up a couple of flights of stairs to the bathroom he had claimed as his own and shut the door behind him. Thinking longingly of the warm water, he shed his robes and stepped into the bathtub, turning on the taps. Immediately, water rained down on his sweat-soaked skin and he closed his eyes, relishing in the feel of the clean water rinsing off the stress from the last several hours.

            The water turned into steam as it hit his overheated skin and he felt himself awaken under the water pressure. He leaned back against the wall and thought of indistinct hands and lips as he pulled with his right hand and twisted and pinched with his left. As he pressed up against the wall with the feel of the water dripping along his skin, the vague form of his thoughts took the form of pale skin and blond hair and he began to move faster, harder. Then, suddenly but at the same time not, his thoughts added a second person in his vision that looked remarkably like him. The two moved fluidly together, almost as if they were one person, biting and kissing and pulling and groaning.

            _Oh._ A voice that was not his own said as he finished, back arching and breath gasping.

            He slumped against the wall and let his hands fall to his sides. He stayed there in thoughtless bliss for a while before there was a knock on the door. Hermione called for him through the door, sounding muffled to where he wasn’t entirely sure what she said. He yelled back over the sound of the water that he was almost done. Then, Harry picked up his bar of soap and quickly scrubbed himself clean, trying hard not to think of what had just happened because then he would be forced to realize what had actually happened and that was not something he could deal with right now.

            When he had turned off the shower and dried himself off, Harry wrapped a towel around his waist and tiptoed over to Sirius’s – his – bedroom to find some comfortable clothes out of his trunk for him to wear since he was most definitely not going to be putting those robes back on after the day he had put them through. Old but comfortable muggle clothes on, he made his way downstairs and was almost into the lit drawing room where he could hear voices when Malfoy finally thought at him, _Blonds, Potter?_

            Harry stumbled to a stop, his face reddening. It took him a moment to unjumble the train wreck that was his thoughts to reply, _Men, Malfoy?_ Because the brunet in his mind that had definitely not been conjured up by his thoughts had been undeniably male while the blond had been questionable as they generally always were. The fact that his fantasy partner was always blond and pale had worried him for quite a while because neither of his former girlfriends were pale or blonde, but the fact that the partner didn’t seem to have a gender worried him far more though he never let himself think too much on it.

            _Ah, well. I thought that would’ve been obvious._ Malfoy replied in a tone that was rather exasperated, as if his expectations had not been met.

            Too tired and embarrassed to continue this half-conversation, Harry shook his head to clear it and continued into the drawing room. Before his eyes could even adjust to the different lighting, a pair of arms flung around him and, on instinct, he caught the young woman. Looking down, his green eyes met luminous blue ones and he couldn’t help but grin at the sight of the misty gaze and radish earrings that meant Luna. He squeezed her even tighter, legitimately happy to see her.

            After they released each other, Harry looked around the room to see four other people at various points in the room. The group from the trip to the Ministry in their fifth year were all looking at him but they were all different. Neville had finally lost the remaining of his round-face and looked far more muscled than a gardener had any right to be. He grinned cheerfully at him, however, and Harry couldn’t help but smile back. Ron and Hermione sat together on the loveseat, Hermione whispering into Ron’s ear as Ron frowned between the two of them. And Ginny…Ginny was radiant. She looked far more confident than she ever had during their time at Hogwarts with tight emerald green robes that showed off how much of a chaser she had grown to be. Her hair was tied back in a high ponytail so that her freckled face was clearly visible. She was gorgeous and yet, Harry could find no trace of the monster inside of him that had once thought of nothing but her.

            She walked up to him and gave him a short, tight hug before pulling back and examining his eyes. “You look exhausted. Did Hermione put you through the ringer?” She asked and when he nodded, Hermione gave a huff of annoyance that everyone ignored. “Come on, you better sit down before you keel over.” Nodding gratefully, he allowed her to lead him to the couch where he sat down with Ginny on his left and Luna on his right, Neville sat in a chair positioned across from the couch and next to the loveseat. “Hermione, you didn’t have to try and murder him.” Ginny said, smirking.

            Hermione huffed again but Ron squeezed her hand so she sighed and seemed to rethink her comment before saying, “If he was that tired, he should’ve said something.”

            “Oh come on, Hermione. You know, Harry. He’s not going to rest until someone forces him to. Two years isn’t going to change that.” Neville piped up and Harry sent him a tired smile as he leaned back into the couch, finding it hard to keep his eyes open and his head from drooping.

            “Come here, you great lump. Lean on me.” Ginny said when she saw him wavering but he hesitated, his eyes flickering to Ron and back to her. “I’m not going to bite, you know. Friends lean on friends. It doesn’t mean anything.” She encouraged and satisfied that he wasn’t going to screw anything up or give anyone false hope, he let his head fall onto her shoulder.

            Now that his head was leaning on something soft, he couldn’t help closing his eyes though he tried to force himself to stay aware of the happenings in the room since they had all come to see him, after all. Luna talked quite a lot about her travels and her boyfriend Rolf and he hmm’d and mmm’d along through her stories, interested but too tired to fully participate though she didn’t seem to mind. Her speech was still quite hard to follow sometimes but it seemed two years and a trip abroad had helped her lose most of the mistiness in her voice. By the time she was finished, Harry had dropped to a position where he was lying on the couch (Luna had moved to the chair next to Neville’s), his head in Ginny’s lap. Neville talked about his own job prospects and how he was really excited to be able to work with various plants that Harry had never even heard of. Ron and Hermione piped up too every now and then to fill the conversation but Ginny stayed silent, her hand combing through Harry’s hair.

            He vaguely worried that this was far more intimate than something just friends ought to do but his mind had other ideas about intimacy running through it now. _Blonds, Potter_ kept taunting him as the night went on though Malfoy was mostly silent in his head, on saying things every now and then that were his own thoughts and not directed at Harry so Harry tried to ignored those for the sake of Malfoy’s privacy. He fell asleep in Ginny’s lap while Hermione was discussing some of her latest work, the mysterious blond that still lingered in his head becoming more defined until it became very obvious who _he_ was.

            _Malfoy._


	11. Best Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Human interaction was never Harry's forte. So what happens when he has to re-meet a bunch of Weasleys while worrying about what his recent conclusions about Malfoy might mean? This.

            When Harry opened his eyes the next morning, he lay very still and waited, hoping. There was silence for so long that he was beginning to think his hopes were founded, but then…

            _Finally awake, Potter?_

Harry groaned and pulled himself up and off of the couch, resolutely ignoring Malfoy’s taunt. He found Ron and Ginny in the kitchen eating bacon and toast. Ron passed him a plate when he sat down next to him. They ate in silence for a while, the only source of noise coming from their chewing and the nervous tapping of Ginny’s foot. As he was reaching for the butter to prepare another slice of toast, Harry noticed Ginny give Ron a sharp look that Harry recognized as her wanting him to say something. Harry then peeked at Ron as he grabbed the marmalade and saw him shoot an annoyed but resigned look back at her.

            Knowing that their furtive looks were about him, Harry went on with preparing his toast while waiting for one of them to bring whatever it was up. When Harry was just about to take a bite, Ron finally broke the silence. “Bill and Fleur are in town.” He said conversationally. Harry just hmm’d in response so he continued. “They have Victoire with them. You could meet her if you like.”

            Harry frowned at that. He had an inkling where this was really headed though he couldn’t deny that he wanted to meet the little girl who would most undoubtedly be ridiculously beautiful what with her parents’ genes. So knowing the answer but not being able to help asking, Harry said, “Where?”

            Ginny and Ron exchanged another meaningful look before Ginny seemed to take pity on her brother and say, “The Burrow.”

            Harry tried very hard not to groan or else get upset with them and continued eating his toast so as to focus on anything except what they wanted him to do. When he finished the slice and realized his plate was empty, he sat back and contemplated the two Weasleys at the table with him. Ginny was looking straight at him, a challenge in her eyes; Ron just looked like he was going to be sick, but that may have more to do with the amount of bacon he had just devoured than him being nervous about Harry’s answer.

            “Fine.” He finally said, knowing he would have to face the Weasleys sometime so it might as well be today.

            Ron choked on a bit of toast and after receiving thumps on the back from Harry and Ginny and dislodging the bread from his throat, he stared at Harry in amazement. “Really?” He croaked.

            Harry nodded. Ginny and Ron looked at each other again and then before Harry knew what was happening, both red-heads attacked him. “Hey!” He cried out as they hooked their arms around his in equally tight grips and began to pull him away from the table and towards the fireplace, which was already lit. Ron grabbed a pinch of floopowder from the mantelpiece, yelled out “The Burrow!” and then both he and Ginny shoved Harry into the green flames before he could do anything about it.

            Not having been able to prepare himself for the awful spinning that was floo travel, he concentrated on keeping his breakfast inside of his stomach where it belonged. Feeling distinctly ill, the sudden stop that was the floo designating his destination left a sour taste on his tongue from the bile that had almost escaped. He collapsed on his hands and knees in the Weasleys’ living room, soot covering him from head to feet and began to cough up what felt like his lungs and maybe his stomach too.

            “H-Harry?” A tentative voice called out and Harry wiped at his eyes with the backs of his hands on instinct, not realizing that that would do more harm than good as his hands were covered with just as much if not more soot than his face was. As such, his eyes were now stinging and his sight was worse than ever. He stumbled to his feet, using the fireplace as support and before he could do anything else, he was hit with a spell that felt as if a powerful wind was attacking him. He batted it off until he realized that he could see again and that all the soot was gone.

            The fireplace lit up green behind him and he jumped quickly out of the way as first Ginny then Ron fell out of it, landing far more gracefully than he had. When he looked back around at the person that spoke when he first arrived, he felt his heart clinch in his chest. Molly Weasley was standing in the middle of the living room, wand held loosely at her side and tears slowly falling down her face as she watched him. She did not move to embrace him as she had once done after him being away for a while. Instead, she stood there like a weeping statue, cracked from age.

            Ginny gave him a bit of a push and he took a reluctant step forward. This was the one Weasley he had been frightened to meet again. Ron and Ginny were nothing. Percy couldn’t say anything after what he had done. Bill and Charlie…well, Harry hadn’t known them very well anyway. George…he didn’t know what meeting George would be like again with Fred gone. And Mr. Weasley would either be upset for a bit and then get over it or accept him back immediately. Mrs. Weasley, however, had once said that he was as good as a son to her. She had loved him and he had betrayed her. She had lost him so soon after losing Fred. He didn’t deserve her forgiveness.

            And yet, when he stood in front of her and smiled worriedly at her, the statue broke and Mrs. Weasley embraced him in the tightest hug he had yet had. He returned it, taking in her familiar smell of home cooking and gardening and letting all of his tension go. “Oh, Harry.” She said over and over again as her tears splattered down the back of his shirt. He patted her back and held her tighter, not sure what else to say to make up for what he had done.

            Eventually, she released him and they smiled at each other for a long time before she muttered something about him not getting enough to eat and disappeared into the kitchen. Grinning after her even though his stomach was still upset by his quick breakfast followed by the tumultuous travel through the fireplace and definitely did not need any more food, Harry felt that everything was right in the world again. Ron and Ginny led him through the house after that where he met Bill and Fleur with little Victoire. He had been right in his thoughts about the child, she was about a year younger than Teddy, having been conceived during the summer after the war, and the most beautiful blond hair and heart-shaped face.

            Bill welcomed him back immediately, embracing him with a swift, tight hug before going back to taking care of his daughter. Fleur was more hesitant. She had been quite fond of him before his disappearance and it seemed that she had taken his leaving as a personal insult because though she gave him a hug and let him hold her daughter, her eyes pierced him with dislike the entire time he was in the room they were occupying (Ginny’s old room as Ginny didn’t live in the Burrow anymore). None of the others were home because it was a work day and Charlie was in Romania, so after letting Mrs. Weasley feed him fruit and a couple more slices of toast and promising her that he would be back to visit soon, Harry let Ron and Ginny drag him to Diagon Alley in order to see how George was handling the W.W.W. without Fred.

            They apparated this time, which Harry was grateful for, and arrived at the apparition point nearest their destination. As shoppers passed them on their way to their own destinations and began their gawking as they had done the day before, Harry began to wonder how hard glamors were to learn and wondered if Hermione knew them and if so, would she teach him. Right before they reached the store, Harry was pulled aside and expecting someone with nefarious purposes, he drew his wand only to find Ron looking at him with a shifty but determined expression.

            “What is it?” He asked, wanting very much to get inside and away from the crowd in the streets.

            “You’re going to stay, right?” Ron asked for what felt like to Harry the hundredth time.

            “Yes. Why?” He sniped back, not being able to help the frustration that entered his tone at the question.

            Ron nodded and said, “Because I don’t want to give George hope for nothing.” There was an awkward pause as Harry registered what Ron was talking about. George had lost his twin and then Harry had left. With Harry coming back, George might gain hope where there was none and if Harry left again, it might hurt the former-twin even more. Harry opened his mouth to say that he didn’t want to hurt anyone but Ron cut him off, “And because I want you to be my best man.” He said that part in a whisper so that no one on the street besides he, Ginny, and Harry could hear.

            Harry swallowed hard as he looked at his former-best friend. He knew that they were friends again, but to trust him this much after what he had done, Harry was speechless at how much Ron had grown. Back in school, it had taken a lot for one of them to earn each other’s trust back after they fought. Now, Ron was willing to give him a second chance at being a best friend despite everything. “I…are you sure?” Harry asked just because he had to make sure.

            Ron nodded, his ears going red. “There was never anyone else, mate.” He said in such a certain tone that Harry felt eyes get wet and he jumped forward to hug Ron in order to hide them. “Is that a yes?” Ron asked when they separated.

            “Yeah, it is.” Harry replied, practically beaming.

            Ginny made a gagging sound that had both of them look at her, eyebrows raised. “Merlin, the way you two act. Are you sure you’re marrying _Hermione_ , Ron, and not _him_?” She said, sounding exasperated. Ron went red in the face and removed all contact from Harry. However, Harry wasn’t going to give up an opportunity this good.

            He grabbed Ron around the waist and leaned his head on his shoulder. “Why Ginny, are you jealous?” He said, grinning.

            Ron shoved him off and Ginny burst into a fit of giggles.

            _Ditched the Weaslette for the Weasel, Potter? About time._

            Harry went stiff as a board and turned on his heel to look into the passing crowd. There were witches and wizards wearing all different colors of robes, carrying everything from rat spleen to romance novels with them. Most of them stared at him as they passed but none of them stopped. Of the blonds that he could see, none of them were his target. There was a teenager with blonde hair plaited down her back, bouncing as she moved. There was an elderly man with short blond hair looking at the magazine stall. There were more, but none held the pointed face he knew was there somewhere.

            _Where are you?_ He thought back almost desperately.

            _Wouldn’t you like to know?_ Malfoy laughed in response.

            “Harry?” Harry snapped out of his concentration to look back at the two Weasleys, both giving him identical worried expressions. “You alright?” Ginny asked.

            “I…I’m fine.” He said hurriedly, still scanning the crowd. “Let’s…get inside.”

            They went further up the street together – Harry still looking around while he could – and slipped into Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes behind a group of school-age kids. They met George at the cash register and when he saw who it was, he called out a name Harry didn’t recognize and a young woman popped out of seemingly nowhere to take his place so that he could greet them properly. George led them to the back of store away from all the noise and gave Harry a friendly smack on the arm in greeting.

            “Heard you were back. You should’ve come sooner. I have loads of new merchandise to show you. How’ve you been?” George asked and though he was smiling and acting like his old self, Harry could see that the smile did not quite reach his eyes.

            “I’ve…I’ve been good.” He said because how could he say anything else to this man that was so obviously broken even if he tried to put off a happy shell on the outside. How could he tell him about sharing a mind with Malfoy or how he was only back because the places he had trusted rejected him and he was perpetually waiting for this place to reject him too? How could he say that he felt like shit because even with Hermione’s training on wandless magic, he still didn’t trust himself not to blow up and hurt people? How could he say that he knows what it feels like to be empty on the inside and have to put on a happy face to the rest of the world? The only answer that he had was that he couldn’t, so he didn’t. He matched George’s fake smile with one of his own.

            George, for his part, seemed to accept Harry’s lie and began to show the three of them around the store, pointing out various top sellers and new inventions. According to George, Angelina, Lee and Ron were now helping him run the store with a couple of young employees by the names of Daren and Lisa. While Lee and Ron were full time, Angelina only popped in every once and a while to help out because she had her own job as a wand analyst in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at the Ministry. George seemed the happiest when he discussed Angelina and from what Ron had told him about them dating, Harry was glad that she made him this happy.

            As they were leaving the shop nearly an hour after having entered it, Harry heard Malfoy complaining furiously about someone and their lack of knowledge about potions. Frowning, Harry began to scan the crowd once more when they were back on the street. It didn’t take him long to find him this time; his blond head was coming out of a nearby shop with a sign saying _For Sale_ in the window. Harry muttered to Ron and Ginny that he would see them later and before they could stop him, he began to shove his way through the crowd once more towards Malfoy. Not wanting a scene with reporters this time or for Malfoy to be able to get away, Harry grabbed hard onto Malfoy’s arm and before the blond could register what was happening, he turned on his heel.

            They appeared on the doorstep to Grimmauld Place and Malfoy immediately pulled himself free of Harry’s grip. In doing so, however, he started to tip off the top step. On instinct, Harry grabbed onto the front of Malfoy’s robes and pulled him close to him so that he wouldn’t fall. Pressed flush against him, Harry could suddenly smell the mint from Malfoy’s shampoo. It was strangely intoxicating. Harry started to take a stronger whiff when he noticed what he was doing and stepped back to open the door to the house.

            “Come in?” Harry offered, nervously. He found himself hoping that Malfoy wouldn’t just disapparate on the spot and would actually try for a civil conversation.

            Malfoy seemed to consider him for a moment before saying, “You know, most people send an owl or at the very least floo if they want to invite someone over. They don’t kidnap people.”

            Harry blushed deeply and ran his hand through the back of his hair. “Well, neither of us are most people, and you wouldn’t have come if I did it the normal way, would you?” Harry grinned shyly at him, feeling strangely nervous all of a sudden and wondering if it had anything to do with the conclusion he had made before going to sleep the night before.

            Grey eyes pierced him for a long moment before the thin mouth curled up in what might have been a smile. “No, I suppose not.” He said and then strutted past Harry into the house. Grinning, Harry closed the door and caught up with Malfoy before leading him into the drawing room. Malfoy immediately sat down on the couch and Harry sat down on the other side of it. His guest gave him an incredulous look at this and twitched as if to move but at Harry’s challenging smirk, he stayed still. “What did you want to discuss, Potter?” Malfoy said after a while, sounding much as if this were a business meeting he couldn’t wait to finish.

            Harry took in a deep breath to calm his nerves. Except, all it served to do was draw in the smell of mint and toasted marshmallows that wafted off of Malfoy. The blush that he had nearly gotten rid of returned in full force and he turned his head away, not wishing to look the blond in the eye. He was very glad that his connection to him had wavered slightly today because though he still heard him, it was only when he wanted him to hear or else when he was feeling a particularly strong emotion. He hoped very much right now that it was the same for the other side.

            “Err, Hermione thinks that we should go see her in order to get the connection removed. She-she’s a Mind Healer now.” He muttered because once again, he had chased down Malfoy without really knowing what he wanted to say to him. Only this time, he actually had to come up with something.

            _Couldn’t you have told me that through this?_ Malfoy asked and it took Harry a moment to notice that he hadn’t actually spoken.

            Harry looked around at the blond and frowned deeply when he saw the familiar smirk playing at his…lips. Harry looked away again, wishing he knew how to force his body to calm down and make sense. “I-I wanted to talk to you about something else too…” He trailed off, not wanting to actually say what was on his mind.

            Malfoy seemed to sense what he was getting at though. “Worried about the mind-sex, Potter?” He said and Harry didn’t have to look at him to know what he was smirking for a whole different reason now. Harry felt a shiver run down his spine.

            “N-no. It-it was weird, that’s all.” He stuttered, feeling incredibly like an innocent schoolgirl and hating it. He had always been on equal footing with Malfoy and now he was letting him get the upper hand. It was maddening.

            _You liked it._ It wasn’t a question and it wasn’t his thought either.

            Swallowing, Harry shivered again. _Yes_. He thought back because he wasn’t brave enough to say it out loud.

            There was a movement on the couch and when Harry turned his head at the noise, he immediately tried to back up only to find that he was already at the farthest corner of the couch. Malfoy was looming over him, his grey eyes alight with curiosity. _May I…?_ He asked and Harry, not even completely sure what he was agreeing to but too hot to care, nodded.

            Malfoy’s pointy features lost focus as he leaned closer towards him. Their noses touched first and Harry felt something like fire race across his skin. Malfoy’s nose slid along the side of his to press against his cheek and then slowly, thin lips pressed softly against full ones. Harry’s eyes fluttered closed as the fire awakened a hunger in him that had him returning the kiss in full-force. His hands flew up from his sides and grabbed onto Malfoy’s sides, pushing them back away from the corner of the couch, their lips never parting. Malfoy’s hands were on his back and in his hair, scratching and pulling. Harry let out a moan.

            “Harry?! Are you here?” Ron’s voice rang out from the hall and they pulled apart, staring wide-eyed at each other. Reality crashed down on him as he heard two sets of footsteps walking through the hall. He had just kissed Draco Malfoy. No. It was much worse than that. He had just _snogged_ Draco Malfoy. The worst of it though was that he had absolutely enjoyed himself far more than he ever had with either of his previous girlfriends.

            Malfoy gave him a smirk that could have been a smile before turning on his heel and apparating with a small _Pop!_ When he was gone, Harry tried hastily to reorganize himself, which would have worked better if he was wearing robes but as such, he grabbed the blanket he used the night before and placed that over his aching crotch.

            When Ginny and Ron entered, they took one look at him and then took very different routes with their expressions. Ginny looked like she might explode from holding in her giggles while Ron looked pissed. “Mate, I saw you apparate with Malfoy. Did he hex you?” Ron asked, furiously.

            Frowning, Harry shook his head. “No…why?” He asked and then tasted copper. He put his hand up to his lip and pulled back to examine the blood that was pooled there. Malfoy had bit him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so you know. This wasn't exactly the plan when I started this chapter. But that's how it went. 
> 
> Anyway, hope you liked it! As always, let me know what you think and I'll see you next week!


	12. Drunk Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron and Hermione are getting married. So Harry has to fulfill his one job as best man. The Bachelor Party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter 12! Hope you guys like it. As always, let me know what you think. I should hopefully have another chapter next Friday but as next week is hell week, I'm not making any promises this time. Though I am leaving you with some imagination at the end of this chapter! ;)

            A fortnight went by since his unusual meeting with Malfoy as Harry began to settle back into the life he had had two years prior, with some noticeable changes. He spent most of his evenings with Hermione as she trained him to focus his mind on his magic and use it to his benefit. He had moved far beyond basic lifting of objects and was now able to easily disarm her and even slow her movements with the Impediment curse. It was almost like he was back in fourth year when she had taught him all of these curses, except that he already knew them; it was just a matter of getting his magic to cooperate without a wand.

            He was doing very well with controlling his magic now that he had mostly gotten the hang of the feeling of it moving inside of him. Using it on a daily basis without a wand helped siphon off the extra he always seemed to have. There had only been one incident during his training with Hermione so far in which he had gotten so frustrated at not being able to perform a simple transfiguring spell that his magic had exploded out from him and sent Hermione and the rat he had been trying to transfigure flying across the room. He had wanted to stop, to give up then, he felt so bad, but Hermione wouldn’t let him. She told him it was just to be expected and that they should try again.

            Thankfully, he was kept so busy with his training and the wedding preparations that he barely had time to think at all about what had happened with Malfoy. He had been able to give Ron the excuse that they had gotten into a fist fight, but though Ron believed him, he could tell that Ginny hadn’t. Every time she was around, she kept trying to get him alone and Harry had the feeling that she wanted to talk about _his_ feelings, as if he even knew what those were. It didn’t help either that Ron seemed to think Ginny’s actions towards getting Harry alone was a sign that she wanted to get back together with him and that led to Ron being upset with both of them, Harry for rejecting his sister and his sister for thinking there was a chance with Harry. It was all very convoluted and made Harry’s head hurt.

            Malfoy, for his part, had kept mostly silent since their meeting. If it weren’t for the occasional angry voice that popped into his head, Harry would’ve thought that their connection had broken. They had not shared any sexual thoughts again because Harry was very careful to make sure that his thoughts stayed inside of his head when he wished to relieve his tension and he supposed Malfoy was doing the same. As for that day, Harry was point-blank refusing to think about it. There were so many variables about that event that confused him and having spent the last two years avoiding his normal emotions, he was not keen on delving into these new, strange emotions.

            As for the wedding now that Harry had agreed to be Ron’s best man, it was happening tomorrow. Invitations had been sent, flowers ordered, robes pressed and tailored, band booked, and, of course, the bachelor and bachelorette parties planned. Since the wedding had been in planning mode for over a year, it was a quick and mostly simple feat in order to have it be ready just two weeks after attaining the final wedding party member. As best man, it had been Harry’s duty to arrange the bachelor party. Therefore, with Neville’s help, he reached out to all of their old school friends and ordered a very expensive stripper despite Hermione’s threat of what she would do if she found out there was a stripper at the party (even though Ginny, as maid of honor, had confided in him that they were indeed going to be having a male stripper at their party).

            “Do you think this is enough alcohol?” Neville asked that afternoon as he and Harry shopped at a local wizarding liquor store.

            Harry looked up from the bottle of Ogden’s Firewhiskey that he had been contemplating and burst out laughing at the sight of Neville struggling to hold onto seven distinct bottles of various types of liquor. Grinning, Harry shook his head and helped take some of the load from Neville’s arms.

            “We want him drunk, not sick. We shouldn’t mix alcohol like that. Let’s just stick with a couple of bottles of firewhiskey, okay?” Harry said, still grinning like a lunatic at Neville’s confused features. Neville obviously did not drink very much and though Harry didn’t drink much himself, he had quite a bit more experience thanks to Dudley.

            So after putting away the liquor Neville found and grabbing five bottles of Ogden’s, Harry and Neville apparated back to Grimmauld where the party would take place in just a couple of hours. Seamus, whom Harry had been surprised to learn was now dating Dean, greeted them at the door and relinquished them of their burden, taking the firewhiskey straight to the kitchen where they had decided after much deliberation would be their home base for the party as the drawing room was too small for the amount of people that were showing up.

            Harry and Neville followed him down into the kitchen, which was in the process of being decorated. Percy was standing below the banner than Bill and Charlie were holding up and George was altering with his wand. Harry heard the words “rude” and “uncivilized” escape Percy’s mouth and when Harry saw that the banner that had originally said _Congrats Ron!_ now proclaimed _Ickle Ronnikins is All Growed Up!_ , he couldn’t help but join in with Bill and Charlie’s laughter.

            In the top left corner of the banner, Harry saw the crown that Dean, who was very good at art, had drawn in reference to the song _Weasley is Our King_ that the Gryffindors had altered from Malfoy’s original creation during their sixth year at Hogwarts. Dean had also drawn a Gryffindor lion that was enchanted to prowl along the bottom half of the banner.

            Streamers were placed all along the cabinets, looped over and under the doorknobs. The counter was stacked full of all Ron’s favorite foods, the most delicate of which were placed under stasis charms so that they wouldn’t get ruined before the party even began. Harry saw Seamus placing the alcohol in a place of honor in the center of the table and rolled his eyes. Now, as long as Ron didn’t die from alcohol poisoning, Harry thought this would be a great party.

            Ten minutes until nine, Harry left the now fully decorated kitchen and apparated to the Burrow. He walked up the long drive and tried to school his features into one of calm detachment. He had just about managed it when Ginny suddenly jumped in his path. “Gin? What’re you doing?” He asked, his voice cracking from shock.

            She smirked and crossed her arms. “I’m about to take Hermione away, but I thought I’d wait for you first.” She said.

            Frowning, Harry stared at her. “What for?”

            Ginny huffed. “Harry, I’m not blind! I knew it when you broke up with me two years ago and it’s just more obvious now.”

            “Knew what?” Harry asked innocently, even though he had a sneaking suspicion of what was coming.

            Ginny narrowed her eyes at him. “Don’t you play games with me, Harry Potter. I know you ditched us that day in Diagon Alley just go to snog your boyfriend!”

            Harry choked on his own spit and coughed in order to be able to breathe again. His face was on fire from her accusation as it brought up the memory of how it felt to be pressed up again Malfoy, lips rough and breathing shallow. He swiped at the memory, trying to dislodge it from his head. “I-I don’t have a b-boyfriend. I-I’m not even g-gay!” Harry said, stumbling over his words and not making that great of a case for himself by continuing to blush furiously.

            “Right. Of course you’re not. Do you really expect me to believe that you spent an entire month in Malfoy’s head and not in his pants?” She sniped back at him.

            “Yes! Because that’s what happened!” He exclaimed, feeling very flustered by the way this conversation was going.

            “Okay, fine. Say that’s true. Then what about that day you kidnapped Malfoy? You can’t deny you didn’t snog him then. Ron may have believed your cock and bull story about a fist fight but I know a bite when I see one.” Ginny’s voice was dangerously low now as if daring for him to deny that.

            “I…err…that…was a one-time…thing. I’m not, I mean, I don’t think I am…” blustered Harry, his face heating up as he stumbled over each word.

            Ginny’s face softened at his partial admission and she took a hold of his hands, squeezing them slightly. “You know, it’s okay if you are. No one will care. Well, Ron might wig out a bit but he’d come around sooner or later.” She said in a gentle voice, a smile lighting on her features.

            Harry didn’t know what to say because he had no idea how he felt one way or the other and so he just merely nodded, wishing very much that Ginny would let him go so that he could go get drunk and not have to think about this anymore.

            She squeezed his hands once more and then released him. “I better go get Hermione before she starts playing with the table arrangements again. You should talk to Dean and Seamus, Harry. They’ve been through this. They should be able to help.” She said and then disappeared inside of the Burrow.

            Harry stared after her for a long moment, feeling very much at a loss for words. Then, the thought of all the alcohol he was about to consume acting as a driving force, he followed Ginny inside and upstairs to Ron’s room, which he would be vacating permanently after the honeymoon. He knocked on the door and entered to find Ron staring in a mirror, looking very green indeed.

            Trying hard not to grin too much, Harry walked up to his best friend and gripped him hard on the shoulder. “Come on, if you think too hard about it, you’ll ruin the night. Tonight’s all about you. Just relax. You can deal with tomorrow when it happens. For now, let’s get out of here.” He said as he turned Ron away from the mirror.

            Ron nodded shakily but had to be helped to his feet because his body didn’t seem to want to function properly. Once he ascertained that Ron was stable enough, Harry held tightly onto him and side-along apparated to his front door. “Come on, it’ll be fine. Just a couple of us with some drinks.” He reassured Ron as they made their way down the dark hallway, Ron still shaking a bit.

            When they went down the steps and into the kitchen, holding on tightly was all Harry could do to keep Ron from passing out at the yells of surprise as his four brothers, Seamus, Dean, and Neville jumped out from their respective hiding places. Harry noted with mild amusement when Percy took up the mantle of holding onto his brother for him that there had been some sort of compromise with the text on the banner because it now read _Congrats Ronnekins!_

            Once Ron had been given a glass of firewhiskey and had drained it, he loosened up a lot more. About a half hour into the drinking, the doorbell rang and Harry let the stripper, whose name was Danielle, into the kitchen. While Percy freaked out about the indecencies of this and then fell, funnily enough, into watching the show avidly with George, Charlie, Neville, and Ron, Harry joined Seamus and Dean by the fire, feeling distinctly buzzed from the couple of drinks he had.

            “So, Ginny told me you have a crush on Malfoy,” Seamus said nonchalantly as he poured the three of them more drinks. Harry nearly dropped his at the words.

            “I don’t.” He said forcefully, trying to focus on steadying the hand that was holding the glass through the haze that was now overcoming his mind.

            “Sure you don’t.” Seamus smirked sarcastically and Harry took another large gulp of firewhiskey to hide the growing heat in his cheeks.

            “You know, it’s okay. We knew for a while about us, but it’s perfectly natural, especially considering what you went through, to notice this late on.” Dean piped up from his perch on top of the counter.

            “Notice what?” Harry asked and, from the look the couple exchanged, immediately regretted it.

            “That you like men.” Dean said matter-of-factly, causing Harry to choke on his next sip of whiskey.

            “I don’t. At least, not in that way.” Harry tried but their nearly identical knowing smiles would not disappear.

            “Right. Then why are you over here with us and not drooling over Danielle over there like the rest of the straight, non-married men at this party?” Seamus pointed out, gesturing over to where Ron was currently receiving a lap dance and wearing a particularly glazed expression while Neville and Percy ogled and Charlie and George cheered.

            Harry took another swallow of his whiskey, barely noticing when Dean refilled the glass he was holding. He was having trouble making his brain work up an explanation for this behavior so all that came out of his mouth were a couple of ‘er’s before he gave up and drank some more, wishing the fire that followed the liquid down his throat would help him figure out how to impress upon these two and Ginny that he was not…whatever they thought he was.

            “You know how this can be solved, don’t you?” Dean said slyly.

            “Hm?” Harry asked, having a hard time coming up with words to say now that his brain was a dense cloud of alcohol.

            “You could just floo him and tell him yourself. That would show him and us.” Seamus said, a large grin on his face.

            As Harry took another sip of his drink, he thought about Seamus’s idea and, feeling distinctly reckless, he thought it sounded like a good idea. All he had to do was tell Malfoy that he didn’t like him and then he would stop dreaming about that kiss. It was a foolproof plan. After all, he didn’t like him. He was just confused by the kiss. So if Malfoy knew how he felt, then everything would go back to normal.

            “Yeah. Yeah, I think I will.” He said and stumbled over to the mantle where the floopowder was kept, completely missing the mischievous grins that Seamus and Dean exchanged behind his back.

            He managed to get some powder into his hand before he crumpled to the floor in front of the fire. “Harry, you alright?” Dean asked and he nodded, he felt fine. There was no need to worry.

            So he threw in the powder and stuck his head in, calling out for Malfoy Manor. When the connection was accepted and his head stopped spinning, he felt very much like he was going to throw up. He was slowly blinking his eyes to try and get the nauseous feeling down when Malfoy’s voice said his name.

            When Harry didn’t immediately respond, Malfoy said, “Potter, what in world are you doing in my fireplace at nearly midnight?”

            Still trying to get his bearings, he said, “I don’t like you.”

            Malfoy sat back at that and Harry saw that he was wearing silk green pajamas. They looked very soft. If only his hands were not back in Grimmauld Place, he could probably have reached out and touched them. “Obviously. Is that all? Because you could have just-” He stopped speaking and seemed to be focusing on something hard before he flinched back and rubbed at his forehead. “Potter, are you _drunk_?”

            “I don’t like you.” Harry repeated because Malfoy had obviously not gotten the message the first time.

            “Of all the bloody – of course, you don’t. We’ve hated each other since first year.” Malfoy snapped.

            Harry was beginning to get frustrated. Why didn’t Malfoy just listen for once? “I don’t _like_ you.” He said for the third time, putting emphasis on the word ‘like’ this time in the hopes that he would understand.

            Malfoy let out an irritated hissing sound. “Potter, it’s been a frustrating day already. I don’t need this from you. Just go be drunk else –” He began again then stopped, a look of dawning comprehension on his face. “Oh.” He said simply and then changed his manner entirely. “Would you like a chance to prove it?” He asked, his grey eyes alight with something Harry couldn’t quite make out.

            “How?”

            “Come over.” Malfoy said, a small smile gracing those thin lips. Without thinking, Harry agreed and then pulled his head out of the flames.

            “So? Did he believe you?” Seamus asked the minute his head was back in the Grimmauld kitchen.

            Harry put his hand up and then used his training to summon a bucket, which crash-landed on the floor about a foot from him, taking a tray of crisps with it. Harry heaved into it, feeling both worse and better at the same time because of it. Once his head stopped spinning and he knew that was the last of it, he used a napkin to wipe off his face and then turned to Seamus. “I have to prove it to him by going over there.” He said in such a serious tone that both Dean and Seamus’s eyes widened in worry.

            “Are you sure, mate? It might be better to stay here.” Seamus said gently leaning towards him, but Harry brushed him off and stumbled to his feet.

            “I have to prove it.” He said, grabbing more powder from the mantelpiece.

            “Harry, this might not be a good idea. How about you just go lie down instead?” Dean said, grabbing onto his arm.

            Harry shrugged him off and threw the powder into the flames. He was doing this and they weren’t going to stop him. “Malfoy Manor!” He shouted and stepped into a whirl of green flames and smoke.


	13. The Wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the day of Ron and Hermione's wedding and Harry finds himself waking up in Malfoy Manor with not much time to make it to the wedding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got a chapter in after all! Things will slow down a bit for me next week, so I will definitely have another one then. Hope you like this one and I'll see you next week!

            When Harry awoke, he was wearing nothing but his pants and he was lying in a large bed with grey silk sheets and a large black duvet. He rubbed blearily at his eyes and rolled over in search of his glasses. He found them on the bedside table and placed them on his nose. When the bedroom came into focus, the door opened and Malfoy walked in carrying a steaming goblet. Harry immediately pulled the covers back over himself so that the only thing visible was his head. Malfoy raised one fine, blond eyebrow at him but otherwise did not say anything until he set the cup down the table where Harry had found his glasses.

            “You’ve had an owl.” Malfoy said, pulling an envelope from within his robes and handing it to him. Harry took it, taking care not reveal too much of his skin while doing so. He saw his name, marked with an exclamation point, in Ginny’s handwriting and knew he was in trouble. “The goblet has my own brand of a hangover cure. It should clear your head if you are feeling unwell. I suggest that you take it while it is still smoking; it works better that way.” Malfoy continued and Harry looked back up at him to see him heading back towards the door.

            “M-Malfoy, wait.” Harry said before the blond could even touch the doorknob. Malfoy stopped but did not turn around. “D-did something happen l-last night?” He asked, nervous of the answer.

            “Nothing that should trouble you.” Malfoy said and then left the room. _You, after all, do not_ like _me._ The thought reverberated inside of Harry’s head, making him realize belatedly that his head was, indeed, throbbing. He picked up the goblet and drank deeply from it, pleasantly surprised at the taste of mint that he knew most hangover cures did not have. His head cleared almost immediately but Malfoy’s thought was left to repeat itself on a loop inside of his head.

            When the goblet was drained of its contents, he set it aside and drew his attention to the envelope, trying hard to stop himself from calling out for Malfoy to come back and explain himself. He slit it open and inside was a short parchment detailing how much of an ass-kicking she was going to give him because he had left Ron in the hands of George. Ron, apparently, had a nasty hangover and was sporting a fantastic hickey supposedly from the stripper (or at least, that’s who George was blaming, Ginny had other ideas). They had not yet told Hermione because she was going crazy as is from the press that were already setting up outside of the chapel in hopes of seeing Harry Potter. Using rather colorful language, Ginny told him to get back there as soon as possible or else. Though her postscript stated that she hoped he and Malfoy had a nice shag.

            Harry dropped the letter onto the bed and put his head in his hands. The wedding. He had decided it would be great to visit Malfoy on the night before the wedding. Some best man he was. However, after checking the clock on the wall and noting that he had hours until the wedding at three, he knew they could get on without him for a little while. He was too curious about Malfoy’s stiff manner and his non-answer to Harry’s question about what had happened between them the night before to leave now.

            Therefore, he pulled himself out of bed and looked around the unfamiliar room for his clothes. He found them on top of the ottoman at the end of the bed, washed and pressed. Knowing what Hermione would say about that if she weren’t so stressed about everything else today, Harry chuckled to himself as he pulled them on. He shoved the letter into his pocket and then left the room.

            He found himself in a whole different part of the house than he had been in before. Knowing that he would most likely get himself lost if he tried to search for Malfoy on his own without his wand, he focused hard within his mind and thought, _Where are you?_

            _In the library_ , came the stiff response about a minute later.

            _Where’s that?_ Harry asked back.

            _Why do you want to know?_

            _Because I want to talk to you and this is exhausting._

            _Fine_. Malfoy responded and then a moment later Harry suddenly knew how to get to the library. It was as if Malfoy had placed a map to it in his head. He followed the path down a flight of stairs and along a corridor to before finally entering a rather large room filled to the brim with bookshelves. It was nearly as large as the Hogwarts library. However he noticed that many of the bookshelves seemed to be completely empty even though the way that the wood on most of the shelves seemed to be sinking from age so it must have been a recent occurrence that the shelves had been emptied.

            Harry found Malfoy curled up like a cat on a lounge chair near the window in the back of the room. He was reading a rather large book intently and did not look up from it until Harry was very nearly standing over him. “What did you want Potter? Don’t you have a wedding to be getting to?” Malfoy asked, his voice sneering even though his eyes played at exhaustion.

            Harry sat on a nearby footstool and said, “I just wanted to know what actually happened last night.”

            Malfoy sighed and placed the book carefully on the table next to the chair. “You were drunk. You floo’d me, saying how much you didn’t like me and then decided I was serious when I dared you to prove it by coming over. You got here, got sick all over my great-grandfather’s rug, and then passed out on my bed after repeatedly telling me how much you don’t like me. Mipsy said it was best not to move you, so she removed your clothes and put the covers over you. I slept in the guest bedroom.”

            “That’s all?” Harry asked, surprised.

            “Of course. Did you think I would take advantage of the situation?” Malfoy asked, his eyes flashing dangerously.

            “Er, I’m not sure.” Harry said.

            “You were drunk, Potter. I may have been a Death Eater, but I’m not a monster, whatever you may think of me.” Malfoy stated coldly.

            “I don’t know what to think of you.” Harry said honestly, not really knowing why he felt like he had to say that.

            Malfoy’s eyes narrowed. “Of course you do. You said it enough last night.”

            Harry blushed and shook his head. “I don’t think I was trying to tell you that.” He muttered.

            There was a stiff silence between them for quite a long time before Malfoy’s whole body seemed to relax, his grey eyes piercing him, looking for confirmation of whatever conclusion he had come to. “You were trying to convince yourself.” Malfoy said in almost a whisper.

            Harry’s blush deepened and he had to break eye contact, looking instead at the mostly empty bookshelves. “And failing miserably.” He whispered back.

            “Why?” Malfoy asked and looking back at him, Harry noted the panicked look in those grey eyes and the way the pointed jaw seemed to be tensed. As he watched, Malfoy gripped his left forearm tightly, the fingers twitching as if they wanted to claw at the flesh below the sleeve.

            Not fully knowing what he was doing, Harry jumped up from his seat and grabbed Malfoy’s arm, ripping his other hand off of it. “Potter, stop!” Malfoy shrieked, trying to pull himself free but Harry wouldn’t let go. He pulled the sleeve down and let out a low hiss at what he saw there. The skin around the tattoo, which had been slowly healing while Harry had spent time here was red and bleeding with fresh scabs from what looked like knife wounds marring the otherwise flawless skin. Pure anger flooded his senses as he stared at the tarnished skin surrounding the still untainted tattoo.

            “I shouldn’t’ve left. I knew you weren’t healed.” He spat, relinquishing his hold on Malfoy’s arm and taking a step back.

            “I’m fine. There’s nothing wrong with me.” Malfoy hissed back, standing up and replacing his sleeve to once again cover the Mark.

            “Like hell there is, Malfoy! What do you call that then?” Harry shouted, gesturing towards Malfoy’s left arm.

            “It’s just a wound. So answer me: why?” Malfoy said in almost a growl.

            “Why what?” Harry said quickly, angrily.

            “Why do you like _me_?” Malfoy whispered.

            “I –” He started to respond, not quite sure of what he wanted to say because he didn’t know the answer to that himself. He was saved from making a fool of himself by Mipsy’s sudden appearance in the room with a resounding _crack!_

            She bowed low upon seeing the two of them glaring at each other and squeaked in her high-pitched voice, “Apologies for the disturbance, sirs, but Mister Potter is being having a howler.”

            The howler in question was already smoking quite a bit and Harry reckoned he didn’t have long before it exploded. He took it gingerly from the house-elf, thanked her, and took several steps back before cutting open the seal. Ginny’s voice erupted from the parchment and he dropped it in shock, having never heard her yell before. It landed, smoldering, on the carpet where it continued screaming, “HARRY JAMES POTTER, YOU BETTER BLOODY GET HERE NOW OR ELSE THE NEXT TIME I SEE YOU, I’M GOING TO CURSE YOU SO HARD THAT YOU WON’T BE ABLE TO FUCK MALFOY ANYMORE!”

            With that, Ginny stopped shouting and the letter proceeded to tear itself apart until it was only dust on the floor. Mipsy apologized again, cleaned up the ashes of the howler with a snap of her fingers and then disappeared once more. Harry felt blood fill his cheeks as he blushed as red as any of the Weasleys’ hair. He couldn’t look Malfoy in the eye and muttered that he had to go before fleeing from the library without a backwards glance. He convinced Mipsy when he came across her to let him use the floo as he hadn’t tried apparating without a wand yet and didn’t think today was the day to try.

            When he stumbled out of the Burrow’s fireplace, he was immediately met with a smack to the head and furious brown eyes. “Where the hell have you been?” Ginny snapped at him the moment he regained his footing.

            Harry wiped the soot off of his glasses and when he put them back on, he couldn’t help but grin at her. She looked gorgeous with her red hair in ringlets around her face. She was wearing form-fitting forest green dress robes and despite the scowl, her face had been perfectly sculptured with makeup. If he still felt about her that way, he might have kissed her. As it was, he merely looked sheepish and stepped around her.

            “So Ron’s upstairs, yeah?” He asked, still walking nervously away from her with his back to her in case she decided to go ahead with her threat.

            He heard a huff behind him but did not turn around. “Yes, he is.” She said, gritting her teeth. “He’s had a hangover potion but he still feels a little queasy. Your job is to have him dressed and at the chapel in the next half hour. _Don’t_ _be late_.” She growled and then with a _crack_ she disapparated.

            Harry made his way up several flights of stairs to the top of the house where Ron’s childhood bedroom was and knocked lightly on the door. A groan that very nearly sounded like the ghoul in the attic sounded out in response and Harry took that as a sign that he could enter. When he opened the door, Ron was lying on his bed, half dressed, with his right arm over his eyes.

            “Hey Ron,” Harry said gently as he approached the bed. Ron just let out another groan, confirming that it had not in fact been the ghoul that had made that noise. “Does your head still hurt?” He asked, sitting on the bed next to Ron.

            Ron shook his head and moved his arm so that he could look properly at Harry. “What if she doesn’t say ‘I do’? What if she does? What if I screw up along the way and she leaves me?” He sat up then, looking quite desperate. “What if she doesn’t actually love me?”

            Harry couldn’t help but grin at him, as much as he tried to stop it. He squeezed Ron’s shoulder and shook his head. “She loves you, you great buffoon. Merlin, you both have already put a down-payment on a flat. You’re going to be great together. Will you fight sometimes? Yeah, obviously, but you’ve stuck together this long, haven’t you? It’s going to be fine.” He said seriously.

            Ron slowly nodded and Harry’s grin widened. “Great. Now, get dressed because we have to get there before Ginny flays me alive.” Ron nodded again and Harry helped him to his feet. They each put on their dress robes and fixed their hair as well as they could. When they were ready, Harry got Ron to side-along apparate them to the chapel as Harry’s wand was still at Grimmauld Place.

            Upon arrival, both he and Ron were shoved into a side room by Percy, who had been placed in charge of looking out for them. Once there, Percy immediately hit them both with an ironing charm that smoothed all the wrinkles and creases out of their robes as well as obliterated any cat hair from Crookshanks or owl feathers from Pigwidgeon. “Good, good. Harry, you got the rings?” Percy asked, looking them over. Harry nodded, taking them out of the pocket in his robes where he had stored them for safe keeping before the bachelor party.

            At the sight of the two gold bands, Ron jumped back and sat down in the nearest chair, sweat beginning to bead on his forehead. Harry immediately put them away again, not wanting to terrify Ron more than he already was. “Great, you hold down the fort here, then. I have to go see to the photographer about positioning for the ceremony. I’ll send Neville your way when I pass by the bride’s room. Hermione’s going absolutely mental.” Percy said and then left the room, shutting the door with a snap behind him.

            Ron let out a whimper that had Harry turning to him immediately. “Hermione’s not thinking about leaving, right?” He whispered, staring weakly at the short, gray carpet.

            Harry squeezed his shoulder again and knelt down beside him. “No. You know Hermione; she’s probably just freaking out about small things. She’ll be fine when she walks in and sees you waiting for her. I promise.” He said as gently as he could, giving Ron’s knee a squeeze.

            Ron let out a long breath of air and sat back in his chair, eyes now fixed on the ceiling. After another long moment, he nodded again and closed his eyes, breathing deeply in and out. Sensing that he probably shouldn’t say anything, Harry drew up a chair close to his best friend and watched him closely just in case he needed something else from him. They waited like that for quite a while until Neville entered the room wearing robes identical to Harry’s and a nervous expression on his face.

            “Luna and Ginny have mostly calmed Hermione down with quite a bit of help from Hermione’s mum. She’s going to be okay. How’s Ron?” Neville asked Harry, gesturing with his head towards where Ron was still resolutely staring at the ceiling, acting as if he were deaf to his surroundings.

            “As well as can be expected, I suppose. How long do we have?”

            “Not long now. Everyone’s mostly seated and the temporary wards the Ministry put up to keep the press out are holding steady. Percy should be –” Neville was interrupted then by Percy’s return to the room.

            “It’s starting.” Percy said, his glasses slightly askew and his cheeks pink.

            A nervous moan came from Ron but Harry knew they didn’t have time for him to reassure the groom again. He and Neville each took one arm and hauled Ron up from the chair. They led him out of the room and upon reaching the door beyond which everyone was seated, they dropped Ron’s arms and stepped behind him. Percy nodded to the three of them and then slipped inside ahead of them.

            The music started and the three of them entered, walking slowly up the aisle to take their places in the front of the room where Professor McGonagall was waiting for them with a tight-lipped smile on her face. They only had to wait a couple more minutes before the music changed and the door at the back of the room opened once more. In walked Hermione, who looked so different from her usual self that Harry had to blink a couple of times to recognize her. She had used Sleekeazy’s hair potion as she had for the Yule Ball back in fourth year and so her normally bushy hair was tame and tied up in a bun with long curls gracefully framing her face. Her wedding robes were white, laced with feathers and embroidered with stars. Behind her were Ginny and Luna, both wearing identical forest green robes and looking nearly as a beautiful as Hermione.

            When the girls reached the front and settled into their places opposite the boys’, McGonagall began to speak to the crowd gathered in front of them. She talked about watching Hermione and Ron growing up and what wonderful people they had both become. She talked about how brave and strong and noble they were during times of turmoil. Then, she continued to talk about their love and made it a point to say that she always knew it would happen and that it was a shame that it had not happened earlier because then she wouldn’t have lost her bet to Pomona Sprout (who giggled profusely from somewhere in the crowd when this was mentioned). She went on and on and by the time she got to the ring ceremony and Harry was required to move, his feet had all but fallen asleep. He handed the rings to McGonagall and then stepped back into place beside Neville. Hermione handed her bouquet of flowers to Ginny and then Ron and Hermione were facing each other, crossing their left arms.

            McGonagall pulled out her wand and waved it over their arms as she continued to speak and a silver tendril of magic began to envelope their crossed arms. When they each agreed to marry the other and placed the rings on their fingers, the magic soaked into their skin and illuminated them both in a glow for several seconds before dissipating when they kissed. McGonagall finished by announcing them married and the whole crowd stood and cheered as the bride and groom began to walk back down the aisle. Harry took Ginny’s arm and they walked behind the couple, large grins on both of their faces. Hermione and Ron were finally married.


	14. The Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The wedding is over but the reception is just beginning. Not so lucky for Harry, he is placed next to Ginny who decides that they need to have a talk. About Draco Malfoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this one's not that long and there's not much in it, really. But I needed a decent transition chapter. As always, I love your feedback and I'll see you next week (with a longer and much more interesting chapter, I promise)!

            After the ceremony, so many pictures were taken of the wedding party that Harry thought he would never stop seeing white spots when he closed his eyes. He must have been shifted around and told to smile at least thirty times before the photographer said that was enough for now and he and the rest of the wedding party nearly collapsed with happiness. Ron and Hermione were radiant though so no one complained out loud about the length of it. When the pictures were done, the newly married couple were driven away in a carriage led by winged horses.

            Once Ron and Hermione were just a speck in the sky, the entire wedding party let out a collective sigh both of delight and exhaustion. Neville and Luna disappeared into the crowd to join their significant others, leaving Harry and Ginny alone. Seeing her wistful expression, Harry couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if he hadn’t run away. Would he be leaning on her now? Kissing her? Would they already be married, perhaps with a kid on the way? He had once dreamed of starting a family with her once the war was over. It had been a fantastic daydream that had been real for a couple of months at the very least. Now, though, he could feel the barrier between them like a waterfall. He could reach out and touch her but not without getting soaked by his own bad decisions.

            “You coming, Harry?” She asked, a smile on her lips and her hand outstretched towards him.

            “Yeah,” He said and reached through that barrier to grasp her hand, feeling the pounding of his heart within him. Grinning, she tightened her hold and twisted, pulling them both far away.

            It wasn’t until they arrived securely on the Burrow’s lawn and Ginny released her hold on his hand that he felt like he could breathe again. The waterfall would always be there, ready to drown him because of what he did, what he could never take back. Therefore, he could never go all the way through it without someone getting hurt in the process, not that he was even sure he wanted to anymore.

            “You okay?” She asked worriedly and he shook himself free of his thoughts and nodded. Together, they walked the remainder of the way up to where the rest of the wedding party had gathered around several tables. He took his seat next to her at the top table and had just begun to take a sip of the water on the table in front of him when he saw her mouth shape into a smirk and her eyes get a dangerous glint to them. He took a large gulp and quickly set the glass down so as not to spill any when she inevitably did what she was planning to do. “So, how was Malfoy in bed?”

            Harry spluttered out what he hadn’t been able to swallow and coughed several times, his face heating up with a rather red blush. “I-I wouldn’t know.” He said, not looking at her and instead contemplating the nameplate that said _Harry Potter, Best Man_. “That didn’t happen.” He reiterated, feeling that Ginny wouldn’t accept his previous words as a proper answer.

            “Why not? Didn’t you snog him only a couple of weeks ago? And you obviously spent the night there last night; you can’t say that isn’t true.” She said, thankfully keeping her voice down.

            Harry frowned and turned to her. “Yeah, I did, but the kissing was a one-time thing. I don’t even know how it happened. And yeah, I think drunk me might’ve wanted something to happen, but I don’t even know how I feel. Merlin, Ginny, I don’t even know him. I spent like a month in his head but have barely had a decent conversation with him since. Plus, I didn’t even know I liked men that way until I spent so much time staring at him. Is there something wrong with me?” He said, feeling incredibly frustrated at his own inability to understand his own feelings.

            Ginny shook her head and smiled at him. “There’s nothing wrong with you. Really, I thought you were a lost cause during school because you spent so much time obsessing over Malfoy. That’s why I started dating other people. It was a real shock when I found out you wanted to date me in sixth year, believe me. Anyone who has eyes thought you two were secretly shagging each other. If you really don’t know how you feel though, you probably just need to actually spend some time with him and decide what you want. I know I said all that nonsense last night, but I really think you should give this a try and see where it takes you. After all, what else are you going to do while those idiots are down under?” She said, gesturing towards Ron and Hermione, who had just arrived to a resounding cheer from the crowd.

            As one, Harry and Ginny stood and clapped along with the rest but even though he was grinning at his best friends, he could still feel Ginny’s eyes upon him. The newlywed couple weaved their way through the crowd, catching a hug here and shaking a hand there. When they finally reached the top table, Harry hugged the both of them, whispering his congratulations into their ears. They then hugged Ginny and each of their parents before taking their seats in the center of the table.

            Food appeared on the tables the minute that everyone followed suit and sat down. Having been surviving solely on panic and concern all day, Harry jumped at the nearest platters of food and quickly filled his plate with some of everything he could reach. For the first several minutes all that could be heard on the Burrow’s lawn were the clinks of silverware and the sound of many throats swallowing. However, as the first helpings were drawing to a close, chatter broke out among the tables and Harry was once again reminded that Ginny was not the type of person to be distracted for long by mere food.

            “So how does it work?” Ginny asked with an air of continuing a conversation.

            Harry looked sadly at the chicken leg in his hand that was only about a fourth eaten and put it down onto his nearly empty plate. He then turned to her and asked in a flat tone, “How does what work?”

            “You can hear his thoughts, right? Is it every thought or…? Can he hear this conversation?” She elaborated as Mrs. Weasley and Mrs. Granger stood up from the table and disappeared together inside of the house.

            Harry shook his head and picked up his chicken leg to take another bite, his stomach giving a satisfied lurch. “No. Since I’m not actually in his head, I don’t know what he hears but I know that I don’t know what is going on around him, just what he thinks about it. When it first started, I heard almost everything he thought but now I only get strong emotions and he can project thoughts to my head that he wants me to hear. It’s weird, but it’s not awful.” He explained without fully looking at her.

            “Hm. So you can think something right now and he could hear it if you send it to him?” She asked innocently and Harry turned to furrow his eyebrows at her, not sure where she was going with this.

            “Er, I guess.” He muttered.

            “You should ask him on a date.” She stated rather bluntly, a sickening smile gracing her lips.

            Harry blanched and was thankfully saved from responding to that by the return of Mrs. Weasley and Mrs. Granger, who were carrying a large cake between them. They placed it on an empty table set to the side of the area where a single knife was ready and waiting. A hush fell over the crowd of people as everyone turned to watch as the couple of the hour stood once more and made their way towards the cake. Together, they picked up the knife and cut the cake. When they had removed their slices, Hermione broke the almost oppressive silence with laughter by dolloping a large chunk of icing onto Ron’s nose. The tables were then cleared of the remaining dinner and the cake began to magically cut itself and send slices all over the crowd so that everyone had a slice without even getting up from their seats.

            “I’m serious, Harry. Go on. Say ‘hi Draco’. It’s not going to kill you.” Ginny said as soon as the babble broke out again as everyone began to enjoy their dessert.

            Harry frowned at her. “Why is this so important to you?”

            Ginny sighed and sat back in her seat. “Because I’m dating someone and it’ll be a lot less awkward when I come out about it if you have someone too. Plus, you’ve already admitted that you like him. Why not give it a go? It’s not like you have an issue with sweeping someone off their feet.” She said, a slight blush on her cheeks.

            “Who?” Harry asked, choosing to ignore the part about sweeping Malfoy off of his feet because that visual was frankly disturbing.

            “Terry Boot. He was a Ravenclaw in your year. I met him at a quidditch conference a couple of months ago when he was looking to do a report on the Harpies. He’s a columnist for _Seeker Weekly_.” She said, lowering her voice and leaning closer to him so that no one could overhear.

            Harry tried hard to picture the face from the name but he had spent so much time blocking out the war and everything before it that he could only come up with a faint outline. Though, that wasn’t really a surprise as he hadn’t had much interaction with Boot that he could remember. The Ravenclaws had mostly kept to themselves from what he could remember. He had far more interaction with the Hufflepuffs and definitely the Slytherins than with them.

            “Fine, but thanks to your howler and my own stupidity, we didn’t exactly end on good terms this morning, you know.” He said and Ginny, for her part, reddened at the memory of her colorful words.

            So, turning away from her and closing his eyes, he tried to find the connection that lay inside of his mind, which had been mostly silent all day. When he thought he found it, he thought _Malfoy?_ while thinking hard about the blond.

            There was a moment’s silence in his head before he finally heard him respond. _What, Potter?_

            Grinning, Harry opened his eyes to find Ginny watching him like a cat playing with its food. He shook his head at her to keep her quiet because he didn’t want to be distracted and sent back: _Is your grandfather’s carpet okay?_

            _My_ great _-grandfather’s rug is fine. Mipsy was able to clear it of your mess._

_I am sorry about that, if it helps._

_Oh yes, I absolutely received your apology loud and clear when you physically assaulted me this morning._ Malfoy responded scathingly.

            Harry blushed and Ginny looked curiously at him. “What’s he saying?” She asked, but Harry shook his head again at her, not wanting to have to explain about Malfoy’s condition.

            _Yeah, about that…are you okay?_

_I received no lasting injuries from your manhandling, if that’s what you mean._

Harry frowned. _That’s not what I…_ He trailed off when Ginny gave him a pointed look.

            “Have you asked him yet?” She asked, rather impatiently.

            “No…how do you ask a _guy_ out? I’m terrible at dates with girls; how am I supposed to figure out what he wants?” He muttered, blushing furiously at the memories of dates gone wrong with Cho and Ginny.

            Ginny chuckled and squeezed his hand. “You idiot. Just ask him out for tea or to the park or anywhere that’s not a bar.”

            Harry had a sudden flashback of Madam Puddifoot’s tea shop except instead of a crying Cho, it was an angry Malfoy sitting across from him. Yeah, that idea would just go swimmingly. Malfoy would laugh him off this planet at the very idea. Plus, it didn’t help that any place involving wizards would be crawling with the press the moment he stepped into the establishment and they wouldn’t be kind at all to Malfoy for spending time with him, especially when they figured out it was a date.

            _I know what you meant, Potter, and I’m fine. There is no need to worry your pretty little head about what you saw. It was nothing I can’t handle. I’m not about to lose consciousness again anytime soon._

_I…what?_ Harry sent back, his brain unhelpfully still imagining cameras in bushes and headlines involving love potions and how Malfoy should be sent to Azkaban for daring to hold Harry’s hand.

            _Potter, if you aren’t going to keep up a conversation with someone, don’t start one._ Malfoy snapped, his frustration with Harry dripping along every word.

            “Er, I’m just making him upset. I need help. Give me an idea of something to do.” Harry muttered to Ginny as the music started and Ron and Hermione moved to start the first dance.

            Ginny frowned deeply and thought for a bit before eventually saying, “What about a meal? Take him to dinner somewhere, probably muggle so you both won’t be recognized. Hm. Just ask him for dinner but don’t say where. We can figure that out after he says yes.”

            Harry shot her a pained look. “If he says yes, you mean.”

            Ginny just grinned at him in response and Harry turned away from her to focus inward again, feeling particularly sick.

            _Do you want to have dinner with me?_ He thought quickly before he could even think how bad of an idea this was.

            Malfoy was silent for a long time after that, leading Harry to gain a nagging sense of panic to go with his upset stomach. When he finally responded, Harry could feel his confusion through their link. _Come again?_

            Harry swallowed hard and took in a few deep breaths to steady himself before he repeated himself. _Dinner. You. Me. Muggle restaurant?_

            _Potter, are you asking me on a_ date _?_

            _Yes?_

            _Yes._

Harry sat back in his chair, confused. _Yes, what?_

            _Keep up, Potter. Yes, I’ll go to dinner with you._

_Oh! Really? Er, tomorrow night alright?_

_Eager, aren’t you? That is fine. Pick me up at eight._

            Harry breathed out in relief and turned towards Ginny, who squeezed his arm. “How did it go?” She asked gently.

            “I’m going on a date with Draco Malfoy.” He said, the words sounding unreal in his head as they came out. “Tomorrow night.”


	15. Dating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having never been on a proper date in his life, Harry finds himself going on a date with Draco Malfoy. The trouble is, he has nothing to wear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! I know! I'm super late with this chapter. I had major writer's block forever on it and it still doesn't flow as smoothly as I would like. Oh well. Here is it. Hope you enjoy it. No promises on this week, though I promise that I will at least try. School is picking up again and I have several coding projects and a 2000 word essay I have to write. =/  
> Anyway, anyone else super excited about the news for both Cursed Child and Fantastic Beasts?

            As it turned out, Harry didn’t own a single nice muggle outfit. In fact, he didn’t own much in the way of clothes in general. After accepting his role as best man for Ron and Hermione’s wedding, he had purchased two sets of robes: one for the wedding and one for everyday use. Other than that, he owned a couple of old pairs of jeans and four shirts that were all too big for him. Ginny and Dean, who Ginny had recruited to help her make Harry into someone a stuck-up pureblood like Malfoy would date, had been aghast when they found this out and even more so when they saw that he was still living out of his school trunk instead of a closet or dresser as any sane person would.

            They had also not been amused by the state of Grimmauld Place. After Harry had moved back in, everyone who had previously been working on the upkeep of the house had stopped coming to fix or clean things as they had assumed that Harry would just take care of it now since he didn’t have a job and therefore had nothing better to do. Harry, having been busy with the last minute wedding details and altogether not caring too much about the house, had not done anything to fulfill those assumptions. Dust had collected in the rooms and his own bedroom was a mess with papers and clothes strewn about. His bedsheets hadn’t been cleaned since he moved in, either.

            Therefore, Ginny had Harry call Kreacher from Hogwarts and ordered him to get the house-elf to follow her wishes while he was gone. This way, she and Kreacher could pick up the house and make it look at least partially presentable while Dean took him shopping in Muggle London for some clothes. Kreacher, who had been estastic at seeing his master again after so long, was not pleased at being told he had to follow Ginny’s wishes to clean, as after taking one look around the place, Harry could tell he was pissed at what had happened to his Mistress’s house. He relented after Harry told him he could come back and stay in the house again if he wanted. When that was taken care of, Ginny had pushed both Dean and Harry out of the door.

            Shopping was a trial in itself. Harry had to go to Gringott’s first to get money out of his vault and then deal with the incredibly irate goblins in order to get it exchanged for muggle money. When that was finally complete, they had apparated into a shopping district where Dean had pushed Harry straight into the first overtly expensive shop he had found with a strict order that Harry wasn’t to complain or make any suggestions at all about what Dean picked out for him to try on.

            Harry must’ve tried on three stores worth of clothes before Dean declared that he was satisfied with Harry’s new wardrobe. Arms full of shopping bags and stomach growling from not having eaten since breakfast, Harry was ready to go home and take a shower but Dean took one look at him and decided that they weren’t yet finished. “Glasses,” was Dean’s explanation when Harry let out a groan. They found the closest optometrist and Dean sweet-talked the receptionist into getting Harry an appointment.

            Nearly an hour later, Harry left the office wearing slim, rectangular lenses that Dean said framed his face better than his old circular lenses. No matter what they looked like, Harry thought that this was the most reasonable stop because after putting on the new glasses, the world seemed to become a lot clearer than he was used to. He had, after all, not been to an optometrist in years.

            With that, Dean confirmed they were finished and together, they apparated back to Grimmauld Place. Harry was allowed a shower when they arrived while Dean and Ginny put away his new clothes in what they dubbed proper places, Harry’s trunk having been stowed in the attic with the rest of the unmentionables that the house had once contained. When he emerged back into his room with a towel wrapped around his waist, he was immediately attacked by Ginny with a comb. Harry fought her off while keeping one hand around the towel so that it wouldn’t fall, telling her that the hair is no use, it’s always been that way and it’s always going to be that way.

            Frowning deeply, she relented and went back to check on how the cleaning of the kitchen was doing. Dean helped him pick out a decent outfit including form-fitting black jeans and a button-up green shirt that Dean said matched his eyes. The problem was the underwear as Dean had bought with Harry’s money but without his knowledge several different kinds. After having the most embarrassing debate of his life, Dean had let him pick some normal pants out to wear as he was under the impression that it probably wouldn’t matter anyway. This comment hurt for a reason Harry could not name but as he was getting his way, he did not disagree.

            Once he was fully dressed and his hair as tamed as it was going to get, Ginny came bursting in, screaming about how he was going to be late and that he better not mess this up. At the front door, Dean handed Harry a slip of paper with the details of the restaurant they had reserved at a table at for him. With that in hand, his own front door was slammed shut on him. Frowning back at it, he looked down at the slip of paper and memorized the contents before twisting on his heel and apparating to Malfoy Manor.

            The gate opened automatically for him and he walked quickly up the walkway towards the large double doors. He had barely to knock once when the door swung open to reveal Malfoy dressed in a grey sweater and black slacks. A rare smile graced his features and Harry couldn’t help but grin back. “Hey,” He said absentmindedly, his eyes roaming over the contours of Malfoy’s neck and shoulders. His long blond hair was tied up with a black ribbon and Harry had the sudden vision of ripping that ribbon off and running his hands through those soft locks.

            “Evening, Potter.” Malfoy smirked. “Nice glasses.”

            Harry flushed. “Harry, and thanks.” He corrected instinctively.

            “Harry it is then. You may call me Draco, if you like.” The blond said and Harry nodded, grinning widely.

            Feeling faintly stupid but following Ginny and Dean’s joint advice, Harry bent his back somewhat and held out a hand for Draco to take. Draco hesitated for only a moment before gripping Harry’s hand and walking towards him out of the Manor, the door closing automatically behind him.

            They walked in a comfortable silence down the pathway to the gate with Harry feeling rather braver and more at ease than he had all day, which was mostly due to the fact that Draco had not pulled his hand away and instead laced his long fingers through Harry’s. Though Draco’s hand was rather colder than he had previously thought, the simple pressure of the contact did wonders in melting away his nerves about tonight. He wondered what would happen if he leaned towards the other man as the pointed shoulder looked quite inviting. Harry decided not to push his luck though and instead settled for giving a gentle squeeze to the hand he held.

            Draco’s eyes caught his at this exchange and though he raised an eyebrow at him, the next moment he wrapped their arms more securely around each other so that they were so close that Harry actually felt the length of Draco’s arm against his side. He shivered but did not draw back.

            When they reached the gate, it opened for them and together they walked out of Malfoy Manor’s protective wards. Draco then turned his head to Harry and asked, “Where to?”

            Harry brought the hand that wasn’t trapped in Draco’s grip up to scratch at the back of head, most likely ruining the little progress Ginny had been able to make in making his hair look decent. “Er, I’ll have to apparate us there. Do you trust me?” Harry asked, genuinely curious.

            Draco’s brows furrowed. “I don’t trust you…yet. However, I suppose I trust you enough to not splinch us on the way to dinner.” His right arm gripped Harry’s left tighter and once he was satisfied with his grip, he gave Harry a slight nod of the head indicating that they should leave. Harry grinned back and then turned on his heel with the address of the restaurant firmly at the forefront of his mind.

            With a _pop_ , they arrived in an alleyway near the restaurant and after checking for passing muggles, stepped out onto the street. The place that Dean had picked out seemed to have a nice mix of fancy and homey, which Harry very much appreciated and from the way Draco had a timid smile on his face, Harry thought that he liked it as well. Harry gave his name to host when they entered and relished the fact that the host did not even blink at the name, just nodded and went to check his list. They were led to their seats and handed two menus and a wine list before the host went back to the front of the restaurant.

            Harry sat down across from Draco and after taking a quick glance at the wine menu, he tossed it aside in favor of the full menu, not even going to pretend that he understood what any of those complicated names meant. Draco gingerly picked up the list and read it thoroughly at least a couple of times before he asked, “Do you prefer red or white?”

            Startled by the question because he had been lost in watching the way Draco’s fingers lightly held onto the menu with just his fingertips, he stammered out, “Er, I’m not sure. I mean, I haven’t ever…er, you choose?”

            A thin, white-blond eyebrow rose before Draco clucked his tongue and shook his head, his gaze dropping back to the wine list. Harry’s cheeks warmed and he hid his face behind his menu, which he was just beginning to realize held more choices than he cared to even think about.

            When the waiter appeared, he gave a name that Harry didn’t quite catch and asked for their drink order. Before Harry could even open his mouth, Draco said, “Two waters to start with. I am also looking at getting a bottle of wine for the table. May I taste test the Merlot?” The waiter agreed and promptly disappeared.

            Harry blinked several times at Draco. The blond’s eyes sparkled in the light coming from the chandelier above them. “Harry, do close your mouth. You look like a troll.” Draco tsk’d and Harry immediately snapped his mouth closed, not having realized his jaw had been hanging open.

            _I don’t look like a troll_ , Harry thought to himself, flustered by Draco’s comment but not feeling himself enough to have a snappy retort. Everything just seemed about ten times more awkward and fragile than usual. He wanted to start a conversation but he didn’t want to mess anything up by accidentally stepping on Draco’s toes with his words. He didn’t quite know what was off limits here.

            “No, you’re right. You actually look quite delectable tonight. I hadn’t realized you owned clothes that fit properly.” Draco said and Harry found himself wanting to roll his eyes at the comment. _Of course_ Draco couldn’t just compliment him. He had to tack on an insult to balance it out as well.

            “I er don’t. Or I didn’t. Until today, that is.” Harry muttered and when Draco raised an eyebrow at him, he felt compelled to explain himself more fully. “I’ve been living pretty frugally over the past two years, so that wasn’t a necessity. I only took so much out of my vault when I left and hadn’t really planned on coming back anytime soon, so getting more money was out of the question.”

            “But you’ve been back for almost two months now, three if you count that month at my home. Why wait until today?” Draco pushed and Harry felt his cheeks grow warm again and had to look away in order to answer.

            “Like I said, it wasn’t a necessity.” He murmured, his eyes firmly on his menu without taking in a single word that it said.

            Harry could practically feel Draco’s smirk but didn’t dare look up from the menu. “Why Harry, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to impress me.” Draco said with such an air of arrogance that Harry had to look up and meet those grinning grey eyes.

            Harry grinned at him and waggled his eyebrows a bit. “And were you?”

            Draco’s ears tinted pink at the suggestion in Harry’s eyes but he did not back down from the challenge. “Impressed? That all depends on what _else_ you’re wearing.”

            Harry blushed scarlet and found himself having the strangest regret of his entire life in that he regretted not taking Dean up on his suggestion of undergarments. Thankfully he was saved the embarrassment of answering _that_ question by the reappearance of the waiter with their waters and a third glass with a small amount of red wine inside of it. He handed the wine glass to Draco, who gave it two swirls before taking a small sip of the contents. Draco’s eyes fluttered closed and stayed that way for several seconds before he opened them again and gave the waiter a curt nod. The waiter left again.

            Harry watched, fascinated for no reason whatsoever, as Draco emptied the glass of the remainder of its contents, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly as he swallowed. Harry shivered as the sight led his mind down a trail of other thoughts. If he wasn’t sure of his attraction to Draco before, he definitely was now, if only by the characteristic tightening in his trousers.

            Finished, Draco carefully put the glass back onto the table and then turned heated grey eyes on him. “You never mentioned, why _did_ you leave the Wizarding World?” He asked quietly so that none of the surrounding tables would be able to hear him.

            Harry shrugged and leaned back in his chair, abandoning the search for something decent to eat once more. “To tell the truth, I couldn’t handle it. There was so much grief and false hope within the family, plus the looming expectations from the _Prophet_ and everyone I met when I just wanted to go out. I think everyone expected me to be this shining beacon of hope that they could follow into a new order or some shite like that. But I wasn’t. I couldn’t. I couldn’t even take care of myself, much less everyone else. With him dead, I had no purpose anymore. I was an outsider to the only family I ever liked. So I started to lose control of myself. When it got so bad that I thought I would end up hurting one of them, I just left.” He explained, frowning at the menu in front of him.

            “You said had.”

            Harry looked up in surprise and met Draco’s eyes. “What?”

            “You said you had no purpose. That implies you have one now.”

            Harry’s frown deepened as he thought about that before just shrugging once more. “I suppose I did say that. I guess I’m just a bit more hopeful now.”

            Draco’s brows furrowed and he leaned forward towards him. “What changed?” He asked, his eyes alight with curiosity.

            Harry shook his head in response, not wanting to actually say the words on the tip of his tongue for fear of embarrassment. After all, the thing that caused him to wake up and reconnect with the world was sitting across from him wearing a puzzled look.

            The waiter returned then with an empty wine glass and a bottle of Merlot. He placed the glass in front of Harry and then poured from the bottle into both Harry’s and Draco’s glasses. He then set the bottle on the table and asked if they were ready to order. Draco immediately answered with his, causing Harry to jump and stare down at the menu in front of him again. With the waiter and Draco looking at him expectantly, he picked the first thing on the page in front of him that looked decently tasty. The waiter then took both of their menus as well as the wine list and disappeared once more.

            Eager to not continue the previous conversation, Harry turned to asking Draco about what he had been spending his time doing. Draco then proceeded to go into a tirade that lasted until they received their food and even a bit after that about how he wanted to start a potions shop in Diagon Alley but finding premises was absolutely exhausting. He ranted quite a bit about a particular shopkeeper whose shop was for sale that had downright refused him on the premise of being a Death Eater, even though he had not said it in so many words. Draco had exchanged several letters with the man as well as several others about how he was more than qualified, having passed his Potions N.E.W.T. with an O and having the highest recommendation from both Professor McGonagall and the potions professor that had replaced Slughorn.

            Harry found himself getting angry at these people on Draco’s behalf and offered to talk to them for him, only to be shot down because Draco refused to be like his father and use other people’s influence to get what he wanted. As the dinner went on and they moved into lighter topics like the current quidditch season (which was a short topic as neither of them had had the time recently to follow much).

            At some point as they ate and talked, Harry had to switch to using his left hand to eat as his right became occupied with fiddling with the palm and fingers of Draco’s left hand. Neither of them mentioned the hand-holding but neither drew away. In fact, as the dinner went on, Harry began to trace Draco’s veins with his thumb, taking care not to press too hard along his wrist where a good chunk of the light blue veins were visible.

            Both too full from the food and the wine, they declined dessert and after some debate between the two, Harry paid the bill and they rose to leave. It had been a fantastic night. So much so, in fact, that he wasn’t looking forward to having to part from Draco at all. He didn’t want the night to end.

            However, just as they exited the restaurant, Harry felt a tremor pass over Draco from their still enclosed hands. Alarmed, Harry turned towards the blond just in time to catch him from falling over. His eyes were glazing over. “Draco? Draco, what’s wrong?” He asked frantically, clasping onto Draco’s forearms to hold him steady. Draco flinched horribly at the contact and tried to fight Harry off though just succeeded in stumbling a bit more into him.

            Understanding, Harry pushed up the sleeve on Draco’s left arm and gasped at the sight he found there. What had been merely a few cuts yesterday morning was now festering with pus and congealed blood. “Draco, _what did you_ _do_?” He cried as the man stumbled and fought in vain against him.

            Draco’s eyelids drooped and he stopped fighting, his whole body giving way so that Harry had to struggle to keep him upright. Knowing they couldn’t stay there and that he had to get Draco somewhere safe, he looked left and right to make sure that there were no muggles that could see them and then twisted on his heel. The last thing he heard before they disapparated was a faint _Harry!_ inside of his mind in the voice of the child Draco.


	16. Draco's Tree

            Harry apparated with Draco’s limp form straight into his bedroom in 12 Grimmauld Place. He carefully placed Draco on the bed, cradling his head with his hand so that he could focus better on making sure his head landed softly on one of the pillows. Once the sleeping blond was positioned properly, Harry flicked out his hand like Hermione had shown him to do and watched as the covers pulled themselves from under Draco and fell slowly back on top of him.

            Once Draco was fully settled, Harry raced down several flights of stairs and into the drawing room. The fireplace immediately alighted just from his will and Harry threw a bit of floopowder into the fire, sticking his head in and calling out for Malfoy Manor. He only had to yell out for Narcissa about five times before Mipsy appeared in front of him, looking quite frightened.

            “Mister Harry, sir, Mistress Narcissa be not wanting to see you, sir.” The elf said, her ears drooping around her face.

            Too frustrated and fearful to worry about niceties, Harry shouted, “I don’t care what she wants! She will see me _now!_ It’s urgent!”

            “Y-yes, sir.” Mipsy trembled before snapping her fingers and disappearing to some other portion of the house.

            As each passing second ticked by, Harry could feel his growing tension coming off of him in waves of static magic. He was losing the control Hermione’s lessons had given him because of his panic. He had to calm down. But how could he? Draco could be dying, trapped inside of his own head, and Harry was doing nothing to help.

            Growing increasingly frustrated, Harry stood up and began to pace around the drawing room, wondering what could possibly be taking Narcissa so long. As the floo connection had not been cut off, he had been under the impression that she was going to talk to him. But where was she?

            Just when Harry was going to give up and shut the connection off so that he could run back upstairs, Narcissa’s annoyed face appeared in the flames. “What is it, Mr. Potter?” She snapped.

            Harry had no time for her issues, however, no matter what he had almost done the last time they were in the same room. “It’s Draco. He collapsed. I think he went into another coma. I swear I didn’t do anything. I’m going to key you into the wards so that you can come over. He’s upstairs.” He rattled off quickly before taking out his wand and altering the house’s wards to allow Narcissa to apparate directly inside. “The house is 12 Grimmauld Place. I trust you know where that is.” He finished, letting her into the Fidelius as well. “Also, I need to borrow your owl.” He added as an afterthought.

            Then before she could even speak a word, Harry bounded out of the room and up two flights of stairs back to his bedroom. Draco was in the same position Harry had left him in, his breathing shallow and his face paler than normal. Harry cursed and kicked at his nightstand, which only served to make his toe protest in pain. Hopping slightly, he started to pace again. How could he have let this happen? He had known…he had seen it. Draco was not alright and he had been as blind as Narcissa the first time. Just because someone smiles, doesn’t mean they are alright on the inside. He should know that better than most.

            “Harry?” Narcissa’s voice called from downstairs just as Harry began another round of his pacing.

            He ripped his eyes away from Draco’s sleeping form regretfully and left the room to stand at the landing and look down below where Narcissa was waiting in the entrance hall. “I’m up here! Third floor!” He called and once he saw her nod, he immediately went back to Draco’s side.

            Narcissa joined him only a couple of minutes later, her eagle owl perched on her shoulder. She silently passed him the owl and then went around the other side of the bed to sit down and pass her hand over Draco’s sleeping face, her own face ghostly white in fear of losing her son. Harry let her to it and grabbed a piece of parchment and a self-inking quill from the nearby dresser. He quickly penned a note to Hermione and then handed the letter to the owl, who took it and flew out the open window.

            With that done he steadfastly ignored the more logical part of his brain that was shouting Hermione’s warnings at him and walked with determination up to Draco’s side. He just hoped he had enough magic to help this time. When Narcissa opened her mouth to speak, Harry met her eyes and she immediately closed it again. He wasn’t going to let her stop him this time. He didn’t care what his own condition was; he just knew he had to help in the only way he knew how. He had to get Draco back.

            He pressed his forehead to Draco’s and fell into fire.

 

            Ash immediately flew into his eyes and coated his lunges. Coughing hoarsely and struggling to see through the smoke, Harry tried to take stock of his surroundings. What was before a blank blackness was now a heavy forest. Each tree was absolutely coated with soot though none of them yet seemed to be on fire despite the ground around his feet being engrossed in flames.

            “D-drac-c-co?” He choked out but the roar of the flames drowned out his call.

            Wiping futilely at his eyes, he turned around where he stood, taking care not to step directly into the flames that surrounded him. However, no matter what direction he turned, he couldn’t make out the familiar light from Draco’s tree and none of the trees around him were even remotely big enough to be the one he was looking for.

            _Harry!_

            Harry jerked towards the sound of his name. The call had come from both around him and inside of him. It was Draco. He knew that, even though he hadn’t been able to distinguish if it had been the child one or the full grown one.

            He had to get to him.

            “ _Aquamenti!_ ” He tried but he suddenly realized that he didn’t have his wand on him despite having it before diving into Draco’s mind. He hadn’t practiced making water without it yet. He tried to focus on his magic but found that it was resisting his direction because every time he thought he had a grip on it, it melted away again, as if the heat from the flames was driving it away.

            Swearing under his breath, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath before inching forward. When he didn’t feel the burn of the flames on him, he opened his eyes and saw that the fire had moved to allow him to pass. Letting out the breath he had been holding, he began to walk, the fire parting for him and rearranging itself behind him as he went. Once he was sure the fire was not going to hurt him, he began to run.

            He passed smoldering tree after smoldering tree, sweat trailing down from his pores and soaking his clothes. There seemed to be no end to the forest but he knew that, could feel it in every fiber of his being, Draco was somewhere ahead. He just had to reach him. He just had to go a little farther.

            “Harry? Harry!”

            Harry wiped at the grime on his face and looked up. The grin that had begun to grace his features at the sound of the voice disappeared immediately when he saw what was right in front of him. The tree. Draco’s tree. It was on fire. It was the cause of the forest fire. The ground was littered with the ash of Draco’s memories. Harry was coated in his thoughts and feelings. A bit of magic sharing wasn’t going to help this.

            Harry collapsed to the ground, his throat choking on a sob. How could he have let this happen?

            “Harry?” Draco’s voice whispered softly.

            He looked up and found himself face to face with a seventeen-year-old Draco Malfoy, a ghostly sorrow scarring his beautiful face. He choked down another sob.

            “It’s my fault.” He whispered, his voice coming out hoarse from a mixture of his feelings and the amount of ash that had filled his lungs during his run.

            “How so?” Draco asked, his face soft with an emotion that Harry couldn’t place but definitely didn’t match with their current surroundings.

            “I-I shouldn’t’ve left the Manor. I should’ve paid more attention. I got so caught up that I forgot…I just…I let you down.” He stuttered, wanting very much to reach out and make sure that the boy in front of him was real but feeling that it wasn’t his place.

            Draco’s head tilted at that and then he shook it minutely. “I made you leave. Of course you wouldn’t have wanted to see me. Harry, you tried. You worried. You helped me realize that someone does care, that I might actually have something to look forward to. You did everything you could, and I should thank you for that.”

            “But I was too late. Y-your tree. It’s b-burning.”

            Draco frowned for a moment and then looked behind him at the enormous tree, whose entire trunk was engulfed in flames as if in surprise to find it that way. Then, despite the flames, despite the ash, despite how everything was going wrong, Draco smiled.

            He then stood and held out his hand to Harry, who was still sitting on the ground. “Stand up. I want to show you something.” He said and Harry took the hand, leaning on it in order to get to his feet.

            Together, they walked slowly towards the burning tree. It wasn’t a far walk but Harry felt like every step was an effort of will because his instincts were telling him to not get close to it because it would burn him unlike the ground. Yet, when they arrived at the base of it, Draco held out one hand towards the flames and they parted to reveal an opening in the roots that Harry could’ve sworn had not been there on any of his previous visits.

            “In there. I’m not supposed to go, but you’ll understand without my guidance.” Draco said, gesturing towards the entrance.

            Harry nodded and crouched down to edge his way through the small opening, expecting to feel the flames from the tree lash out at him any moment. They did not though and Harry made it inside of the trunk without any harm coming to him. He was inside a dark tunnel that was cramped and had him crawling on his hands and knees in order to move forward. Surprisingly, though he knew logically that he was inside of a tree, the ground and walls around him did not feel like wood. In fact, they were closer to silk in texture.

            He crawled forward in the darkness for a long time, longer than he thought the tree was wide. Eventually, his eyes could just make out a small light ahead of him. As best as he could when moving on all fours, he tried to speed up to understand what the light was better. He was so focused on it that he did not notice the tunnel ending and ended up tumbling forward onto a hard, marble floor.

            Tearing his eyes away from the light, he slowly pulled himself to his feet and took in his surroundings. He was now in a small circular room with no windows. However, the dark wood-paneled walls were completely covered with empty portraits. Harry took a step towards the nearest one and suddenly it wasn’t empty at all. Within the canvas was a swirling silver mass, not unlike the contents of Dumbledore’s pensieve. He took another step forward to where his nose was almost touching the canvas. As if in response to his closeness, the mass parted like water to reveal a scene that Harry recognized from his own nightmares, yet from an entirely new angle.

            He could see himself on a broom fighting against the fiendfyre in the Room of Requirement. The vantage point is of looking up at Harry from within the flames and it took a moment for him to realize that this was Draco’s point of view of the situation. Memory Harry swerved and mouthed something inaudibly at an invisible figure that must be Ron before taking a risky dive. His hand is offered to memory Draco and a pale, shaking hand grasps it tightly. The memory then swirls and restarts itself. Harry takes a step back and the scene is all misty swirl again.

            He now has a feeling that he knows what the other portraits hold: different moments from when Draco was saved, when Draco was found worthy of being alive by others. Swallowing down his emotions, he turned again to the light. Except, it was not a light at all. In the very center of the room on a marble pedestal was a tree. This tree was so small and so young that it could barely be called a sapling. It was still green and its leaves wore no sign of having been weather beaten. It was innocent and yet the long roots that grew from it all the way down to the ground connected it to the greater tree around it.

            Seeing the plant so alive and full of hope made the horrors of the forest fire outside seem like nothing. They were just a means to an end, a scar from the past that had to be washed away for Draco to be whole once more. Draco didn’t need his help after all, anymore. He had all the magic he could wish for in this small sapling. Draco wasn’t relapsing. He was healing. Harry let go.

           

            When he opened his eyes, he was back in his bedroom in Grimmauld Place with Narcissa beside him, her eyes lost and her grip tight on Draco’s hand. Hermione was in the doorway, her hair even bushier than normal and her hands carrying several volumes of books. Her lips were tight in a way that suggested she was holding in a tirade and at her several glances towards Narcissa, Harry knew that she was only not yelling for the elder Malfoy’s sake. He was grateful for that.

            “Well, what happened? Is he okay?” Narcissa asked, her lips barely moving as the words came out, her grip still iron tight on Draco’s hand.

            Harry opened his mouth to answer but stopped when a voice spoke in his head. _Make them leave. Mother’s going to break my hand if she keeps on and Granger’s going to have an aneurism if she isn’t put out of her misery soon._

Harry grinned and nodded at Narcissa. “He’s fine. He just needs to rest a bit more. Could I interest you in some tea?” He asked, inclining his head towards both women. Hermione glared at him and Narcissa’s lips tightened even more at the suggestion of leaving her son, but in the end, they both nodded and left the room.

            Harry moved to follow but stopped at the doorframe when Draco spoke again in his head. _Not you. You stay._

            At raised eyebrows from both women, Harry grimaced sheepishly and said, “I’ll be down in a moment. Kreacher will make you tea. I just need to change.” He gestured towards the clothes he had been wearing since dinner and then closed the door in their faces, hoping that they wouldn’t question his words.

            When he turned around to face the room, he found Draco’s grey eyes shining at him from the bed, a familiar smirk gracing his features. _Well, I never thought I would wake up in your bed, of all places._ The suggestion in the words made Harry’s cheeks flush in embarrassment and Harry found himself wanting very much to respond in kind but a much larger part of him was boiling in anger at the self-satisfied expression on the blond’s face.

            “What were you thinking?” He spat out loud, not feeling like he would be able to put the full force of his anger into a conversation where his mind was distracted on the very act of sending the words.

            Draco’s smirk immediately disappeared to be replaced by a look of feigned innocence. “I think quite a lot, Potter. You’ll have to be more specific.”

            Frustration mounting where there had been only peace just moments before, Harry moved purposefully towards the bed and pulled Draco’s left arm out from under the covers before the blond could stop him. He showed the mark to Draco but he just took one quick look at the blemish and turned his face away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Potter. It’s just a damn tattoo.”

            Annoyed, Harry took the arm back and looked down at the tattoo himself. A surprised gasp escaped his throat before he could stop it. He turned the arm this way and that and rubbed his fingers over the snake and skull, but nothing his senses told him made any sense. Where just a few hours ago there had been blood and scars, there was nothing but clean, white skin. The tattoo was still there, but everything else had healed as if there had never been anything in the first place.

            “Y-you’re healed?” He stammered, his fingers still running up and down Draco’s left forearm expecting to at least feel raised skin from the scars he knew had been there before.

            Draco turned his head back to face him and nodded. “Mind and body. You’ve been unknowingly trickling your magic to me through our link since we met in Diagon Alley. It’s helped…a lot. I didn’t say anything because I thought Granger would find out a way to take it away if you knew. I was…afraid.” He explained in little more than a whisper.

            “You have to get worse before you get better.” Harry said, thinking of the fire inside Draco’s mind and, strangely, of his own experience in losing control of his magic.

            “Yes.” Draco agreed.

            “You know; I think I’m done running away.” He said without thinking.

            Draco frowned at him and cocked his head to the side in confusion. “What brought that on?”

            Harry blushed and shook his head, threading his fingers through Draco’s and squeezing lightly. “As corny as it sounds, I think I’ve found something to stay for.”

            Draco smirked but did not draw his hand away. “Oh? And what if I decide to leave because I can’t find anywhere to start my business here?”

            “I’ll follow you anywhere, you git.” Harry said, his face now completely red.

            Draco opened his mouth to retort but Harry, getting tired of his nonsense, leaned in and pressed his lips against Draco’s open mouth. There was a moment when he was scared that Draco wasn’t going to respond and that he had gotten this wrong after all but then that moment passed and Draco’s eyes fluttered closed as he returned the kiss in earnest. Harry grinned against his mouth and deepened the kiss, feeling more in control of himself than he had in a very long time.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter. Sorry for the non-notice and the long time between chapters, but I wasn't really sure if this would be the end or not until now. Hope you guys liked the story.


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